


Searching for a Language (That the Two of us Can Speak)

by la_faerie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_faerie/pseuds/la_faerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes Liam will run his fingertips along Louis’ neck, gripping ever so slightly, and then adjust the collar of his t-shirt. <i>haha, your tag was sticking out and you just took a bunch of pics with fans, hahaha</i>. Because the way Liam touches is the way he talks and writes. His big hands are steady, but his movements and his intentions are a little bit goofy."</p><p>In which Louis notices something is going on between Niall and Zayn. Liam notices something is going on with Louis. And, at one point, Harry is the only one still speaking to everyone in the group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Searching for a Language (That the Two of us Can Speak)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note to say that Eleanor, Danielle, and Perrie are inexplicably absent here, so this is kind of an au in that way. Let's face it, they're all too good for the idiots in this story anyway. I imagine they're all off being chic somewhere together.
> 
> An insanely huge thank you to Lindsay for everything: for putting up with all my crazy messages, for reading this entire thing, and, most of all, for telling me not to leave this unfinished. I honestly couldn't have written this without your help.
> 
> (The title for this is taken from 'Love Machine' by Girls Aloud)

Louis steps out of the recording booth, having just wrapped for the day. He throws on a hoodie and runs his hands through his hair, ready to throw his feet up on the coffee table, maybe finish that game of Fifa he and Niall had started earlier. There’s no sign of the other lads around, so he heads for the studio lounge, assuming that’s where they must be camped out. 

There’s a sense of quiet hanging over the floor that has Louis wondering if maybe everyone has already left, but he brushes that aside quickly because they hardly ever leave without saying goodbye to each other or, at the very least, texting to say they’ve gone. When he walks in the lounge doorway, he finds the source of the hushed atmosphere: Harry is asleep on the sofa, hand thrown over his eyes, curls spilling across his face, but that isn’t what gives Louis pause. 

The thing that’s making him stop and hover in the doorway is Niall and Zayn squeezed into an armchair together. Zayn is holding a book up between them. They’re both leaning in to look at it, their temples pressed together, their eyes scanning the pages in silence. Louis’ hand flies up to his mouth, as if to physically keep himself from speaking, because something tells him this shared, quiet activity isn’t only for the benefit of Harry’s peaceful nap. He backs out of the room and into the corridor, an odd, constricting feeling twisting in his stomach.

As if he can sense that Louis needs someone to talk to, Liam appears in the corridor, his voice slicing through the silence:

“Heya, Tommo! Sorry, I was just on the phone to Ruth, what’s up? Are you finished recording?” Louis waves his hand, conveying that recording couldn’t be of less importance at the moment.

“Liam, Liam, Liam!”

“Has something happened?” Liam asks, his eyes narrowing.

“Yes. No. I’m not sure? Well, it’s Niall.” A tremor of concern crosses Liam’s face at this contradictory rambling, so Louis claps a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s just that, Zayn likes reading, right? He’s always got something to read. He had that Nabokov rubbish the other day, and god knows what else.” 

“Actually,” Liam cuts in, “I’m pretty certain Nabokov isn’t rubbish. The opposite of rubbish, really.”

“As if you’ve read even one sentence by him!”

“Well…” Liam wrinkles his nose and chuckles, “shut up, you know I haven’t.”

“Of course you haven’t, because the rest of us aren’t literature freaks like Zayn. But,” Louis shifts his tone, tries to explain the situation as cautiously as he can, “the thing is, Niall’s reading right now. An actual book. With Zayn.” 

“Wait a second, you’re saying that Niall is reading?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have fantastic comprehension skills?” Louis deadpans.

“But,” Liam begins, ignoring the jab, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Niall read a book in my life? Not one single book.”

“That would be my point.” Liam’s eyebrows are knit together in confusion. He looks like he’s about to make a move into the lounge to check on Zayn and Niall, so Louis brings his other hand up to rest on Liam’s chest.

“I think…” Louis wants desperately to articulate the scene, the intimacy of it, but he’s not sure he can convey it. “He seems okay. That’s the thing about it? They’re okay.” Liam relaxes into the pressure of Louis’ hands for a moment and then takes a step back. 

“So, what are you saying then?” 

There’s a pause before Louis’ mouth curls into a smile, his teeth bared.

“I’m saying, Harry’s passed out on the sofa, and Zayn and Niall are letting him get away with it. They’re letting him take a perfectly peaceful nap!” Louis thinks he detects relief washing over Liam’s face as he smiles at this.

“You’re joking.”

“I’d never joke about a catastrophe such as this. We’ve got to do something.” Louis notices Liam doesn’t even question the use of ‘we.’ He just nods, pulls his hands up to his chin like The Thinker, eager to formulate a plan to disturb Harry’s peace. Louis’ grin is genuine now—that odd feeling in his stomach dissipated—as he throws his arm all the way around Liam’s shoulder.

“Whaddya reckon this time?” he leans up to whisper in Liam’s ear, “straws up the nose?”

+

It’s a few days later, and one of those in between moments where all they can do is wait. This time they’re waiting for Harry to finish getting dressed before they all go in for an interview. Niall and Zayn click together immediately like magnets, curling into each other on the sofa, sharing a magazine between them, pointing and whispering about various photos. 

Liam’s on the other side of the room, but he’s got one eye on them. He had been trying to pay extra attention to them ever since Louis had approached him that one day, looking confused out of his mind. The thing that got to Liam is that Louis is actually quite perceptive. He’s the best at reading situations, though whether or not he reacts appropriately is another story. Liam can’t tell yet if Louis was overreacting in this case, or if there really is something going on beneath the surface between Zayn and Niall. Though he does have to admit, Niall willingly reading a book is a strange turn of events.

Liam’s got his other eye on Louis, who is currently pacing back and forth behind the sofa. His restless energy is making Liam nervous for several reasons he can’t quite articulate. He tries sending Louis telepathic messages like _don’t do anything stupid until after this interview_ and _are you okay?_ But something doesn’t translate because Louis is now poking Niall in the back of the head.

“Niall!” No response. 

“Nialler!” Silence. 

“Oi, Irish!” 

“Aaargh, knock it off, Doncaster!” Niall reaches back to swat at Louis. “That hurt!” Louis pulls his bottom lip down.

“Awww, are you injured, darling?” but Niall isn’t paying attention because Zayn is patting the back of his head. 

“Fine, then,” says Louis, and Liam thinks he must be making a concerted effort to keep his tone light. “I see I’m the third wheel.” Neither Niall or Zayn are looking, but Liam sees it. He sees Louis’ face, suddenly turned so delicate it could shatter like porcelain.

Liam’s on the move, makes his way across the room in a few strides. Louis refuses to look at him, but Liam puts a hand on his back, intoning “Tommo” in a low voice. Louis doesn’t turn to face him. Liam’s just starting to walk away, thinking it’s best to leave him alone, when he feels a Louis-shaped thing climbing onto his back.

“Liam Payne!” he’s hollering for no discernible reason. “Payner!” and Liam’s being hit in the head, because of course Louis has snatched one of the sofa cushions, and is now smacking him over the head with it. 

“Thief!” Zayn cries, “Stealing our cushion!” and he’s off the sofa, tackling Liam and Louis to the ground. The three of them crash to the floor in a messy heap, Liam’s legs tangled up with both Louis’ and Zayn’s, And suddenly Niall is on top of him too, giggling like mad and ruffling his hair. 

“What’s this?” comes Harry’s voice, “Ganging up on Liam without me? Unacceptable!” Liam groans as Harry dives in to join the free for all. A whole lot of artfully-styled hair is being ruined, expensive wardrobe items are being wrinkled, and making the five of them look presentable again is definitely going to delay the interview. But it’s worth it to Liam because, at the moment, the only thing that’s in danger of shattering is Paul’s eardrums from the clatter caused by a five-boy dog-pile.

+

Louis isn’t actually a morning person, although he sometimes gets a bad reputation for being especially obnoxious in the early hours of the day. It isn’t fair, he thinks. Anyone would seem loud and annoying to Zayn, who prefers to be dead to the world until at least two in the afternoon. No, Louis is perfectly content to sit alone in a makeup chair, munching on a bowl of Reese’s Puffs (he’d made sure to stock up during their last trip to the US) as Lou makes her way down the line styling everyone for this morning’s round of interviews.

The thing is, the really weird thing is, that not everyone is as content as Louis is to sit quietly this morning. Lou has already tended to Zayn and Niall, and now they’re huddled together in the corner of the room, giggling over some private joke. Genuinely giggling. Zayn’s got his hand over his mouth and everything.

Louis stares at the mirror in front of him and watches their reflections. He watches Niall laughing and smiling, even though it’s obscenely early in the morning for his mega-watt smile ( _the braces really add flash to it_ , Louis thinks wryly). Judging by the expression on his face, Zayn doesn’t seem to be finding this behavior obnoxious at all. He’s drinking in Niall’s laughter like it’s his own personal brand of oxygen. 

Louis tries to glance at the chair next to him as covertly as possibly, only to see that Harry is slouched down with headphones in and a beanie pulled over his eyes. _A fat lot of help he is_ , Louis thinks, rolling his eyes to himself. He chances another glance in the mirror to see that Niall and Zayn have linked arms and are doing a goofy dance step in time with each other. It’s hopeless, and Zayn gives up fairly quickly, leans over to bury his face in Niall’s neck. And this time just a small smile flickers across Niall’s face. Louis looks away again. Liam is chatting with Lou, laughing in hushed polite tones and, for some reason, this more than anything sets Louis off. He slams his cereal bowl down on the counter in front of him, milk sloshing everywhere, and leaps out of his chair. 

“I’m just running down to the vending machine for a drink, d’ya want anything?” he asks Lou, who shakes her head, and that’s good because he isn’t really planning on going to the vending machine anyway. That tightening feeling in his stomach is back and he needs to walk it off. Heading out into the hallway, he isn’t sure where exactly he’s going, but he knows he certainly can’t sit in that room any more pretending like he isn’t stuck in some kind of limbo of confusion.

BBC employees are milling around carrying paperwork and clipboards and iPads, and thankfully everyone seems too busy to pay much attention to one of the kids from One Direction. Louis actually couldn’t stand anyone noticing him at the moment. Because the thing is, he’s positive he isn’t jealous. The thing that’s bothering him actually isn’t that Zayn and Niall suddenly seem so close. The thing is, the real heart of it is, this is now the second time he’s happened to glance at two of his bandmates and felt like an intruder. 

Louis figures he probably looks like an idiot wandering around the BBC offices in sweatpants and a beanie like some kind of lost boy. He decides to walk to the vending machine after all, just for the sake of having a destination. He squints his eyes against the fluorescent hallway lights, tries to think about inconsequential things, like whether or not he can sneak another bowl of Reese’s Puff before he has to get changed for the interview.

Then he thinks about Liam and Harry, how it doesn’t seem to be a problem for them. He thinks about how he had tried to explain it to Liam, and how Liam was chatting easily with Lou just now, as though nothing at all of significance were happening. He rests his head against the cool glass of the vending machine, regretting that he hadn’t been able to communicate the sense of intimacy that had cloaked Zayn and Niall, tangible but invisible.

Louis stares at the snacks and soft drinks, row upon row, arranged in a neat and simple grid. But he’s not in the mood for any of them, nothing offering him answers or solutions. He thinks he should get a bottle of water just so that he returns with something, tries looking at the keypad to type in the number. But all he can see is the image of Zayn leaning into Niall’s neck, and the way Niall had smiled shyly at the movement, as though Zayn had silently shared a secret with him.

Louis returns to the dressing room empty-handed.

+

The five of them are arranged in a semi-circle: Niall, Zayn, Harry, Liam and Louis, with the interviewer facing them. Liam can’t remember if the interviewer had asked them to sit like this, or if they had just naturally fallen into this order. All Liam knows is that he’s got Louis sitting close on one side of him. Louis, who can’t keep his hands to himself. Louis, who is pulling relentlessly at Liam’s shirtsleeves and poking him in the face. Liam is using up all his energy just trying to shove Louis back into his own personal space and give him meaningful looks like _stop it! you look like an absolute twat on national television_ , but Louis has a look in his eye like he can't rest.

Liam’s concentrating so hard on simultaneously fending Louis off and not collapsing into fits of stupid laughter that he doesn’t register the question currently being asked, or the beginnings of the answer. All he hears is Zayn saying, “Myself and Niall!” and sees him throwing an arm around Niall’s shoulder. 

Someone is pinching his arm. Louis, obviously. “Ouch!” he yelps, but Louis only pinches him again and there’s an urgency and _oh_ he realizes this is a _pay attention!_ pinch. He looks at Louis, can see that it seems like he’s smiling, but really his teeth are all set on edge. Liam follows his gaze across the little semi-circle to Zayn and Niall. Zayn’s arm is still draped around Niall’s shoulder, and they’ve slotted so close together, they’re practically sitting in each other’s laps. And it’s as though Louis’ insistent touch propels him back into the moment. 

He realizes that the interviewer had begun with, “So, bromances are all the rage at the moment. We asked your fans to send in questions to us over twitter, and we were absolutely bombarded with questions on that subject!” And then proceeded to direct a: “So then, what’s your favorite bromance in the band?” question to Zayn.

To which he had replied: “Niall and I have always been fairly close. But we’ve really clicked lately, so I’d have to say myself and Niall!” Liam’s mind races a million miles an hour, as he attempts to process this confirmed-by-Zayn relationship, and the fact that Harry is now huffing and puffing beside him out of jealousy. 

“What’s this?! I thought you and Niall both liked _me_ best!” Liam reaches out to pat his knee reassuringly, but Harry swats his hand away.

“I don’t need your pity, Liam!” he says in a lofty voice, sticking his nose in the air, and then cracking himself up.

“Hate to break it to you, mate,” Liam says, as affectionately as he can, “but apparently it’s pity or nothing.” Harry scrunches his face up, taking offense to Liam’s offer. He shakes his head, and Liam gets a face full of curls. Harry turns back in Zayn and Niall’s direction.

“I’m absolutely serious!” he cries. “I’m seething with jealousy.” 

But Harry might as well be speaking to a brick wall because Zayn and Niall are looking only at each other, their eyes locked, engaged in a silent conversation. Niall is fidgeting with the snapback he’s currently sporting (silver, with the New York Giants logo). A grin flashes across his face. He raises an eyebrow like he’s questioning something, takes his snapback off, and places it lightly on Zayn’s head ( _probably being careful not to mess up Zayn’s hair_ Liam thinks). But to Liam’s surprise, Zayn reaches up with his free hand and pulls it all the way down, ensuring that it won’t fall off, and it’s like confirmation of something.

And _oh_ , Liam thinks again. Everything snaps into focus. There is something there—not anything bad—just...something. Something that not even Harry, with his endless charisma, can break into. Something new and private. And then there’s Louis touching him, Louis trying to reach him. 

Liam is now sitting bolt upright: he leans over and pinches Louis’ arm twice. _I see. I get it_. In response, Louis brushes Liam’s cheek gently with the back of his hand and, as his arm falls back to his side, he swats at Liam’s shoulder. Liam can’t suppress a chuckle at this, doesn't even try, because he knows that last touch is _told ya so_.

+

It becomes a thing. Louis has always been a hands-on person, but now it’s something Louis and Liam do together. 

Sometimes Liam will run his fingertips along Louis’ neck, gripping ever so slightly, and then adjust the collar of his t-shirt. _haha, your tag was sticking out and you just took a bunch of pics with fans, hahaha_. Because the way Liam touches is the way he talks and writes. His big hands are steady, but his movements and his intentions are a little bit goofy. And there’s the nipple-tweak he receives in return _you deserve that, you twat. But, thanks, I guess_. Because when Louis touches, he sneaks up on you all at once, a sharp and overwhelming presence. It’s sometimes difficult to decipher whether he’s trying to attack or trying to love. Liam suspects that Louis himself doesn’t really distinguish between the two.

Sometimes Louis will spot Niall and Zayn, and maybe they’re just standing in the hallway like any ordinary day. But they’re curled in towards each other, their body language signalling they’re attuned to only one another. And Louis can’t say anything to them, can’t even approach them, locked out of their world. 

When this happens, he doesn’t know what else to do except seek out Liam, walk around him in a circle before stopping and tipping his head, leaning into Liam’s shoulder for a moment. Then he pulls a face and starts poking Liam repeatedly along his jawline, trying to make a mark with his fingernail in the stubble there. Liam doesn’t even mind having Louis snag his nails across his face. Liam doesn’t mind in the slightest because he knows all he has to do is take Louis by the hands and watch as Louis’ fingers still instantly at his touch.

A few weeks pass in peace like this. The group travel to Sweden to record, then return to London. Niall and Zayn sit together on the flights both ways, and Louis and Liam nearly cause a safety hazard on the flight home when their touching thing ends in a hotly contested arm wrestling match (the only thing they can agree on is that Harry’s officiating was rubbish). 

It doesn’t always have to do with Zayn and Niall though. Or Harry. Or anyone else, for that matter. Because Harry keeps laughing and chatting with everyone, his eyes bright, his face eager and open just like usual. And Zayn and Niall have their own secrets. So, sometimes, it’s just the quick press of a hand to the small of the other’s back in passing. Sometimes with Liam and Louis it’s just _hey, I’m here. I’m here with you_.

+

Back at the studio for another round, Louis feels hyped up like he’s had too much caffeine, except he actually hasn’t had any coffee today. He decides this needs to be remedied because, if he’s going to feel this weird bundle of endless energy, it should at least be because he’s overdosed on too much frappuccino. 

Harry is standing just outside the recording booth, trying to get off the phone with his mum.

“Yes mum, I know about the doctor’s appointment, you already texted me about it. I’m not planning to stay out too late tonight, I promise. But mum, I actually do have to work now. I know it seems like it isn’t a job because it’s fun or whatever, but…Yes, everyone’s here. Yeah we’re all recording. Louis is standing right here actually…”

Louis pulls a face, crossing his eyes and baring his teeth. Harry grins and says into the phone:

“He’s saying a very charming hello to you,” then, pulling the phone away from his ear, “Mum says to be careful or your face will get stuck like that.”

“Rude! She doesn’t even know which face I’m making!”

“Yes she does. And also, she’s saying to give her love to your mum and sisters.” Louis gives a little bow and a salute, but he isn’t sticking around for any more of this, leaving Harry to fend off motherly concerns alone.

There’s no sign of Zayn or Niall around at the moment. _Probably piled in a broom cupboard somewhere, sitting in each other’s laps, taking turns serenading one another_ , he thinks. He bounces off down the hallway in an effort to stop himself from picturing the two of them doing anything beyond singing while sitting in each other’s laps. He spots Liam all the way at the other end of the corridor. He’s leaning against the wall, hoodie pulled up over his head, and busy tapping away on his phone. Louis feels something pulling at his stomach, like gravity guiding him down the hall. He gets close, and nudges one of Liam’s white Converse with his own foot.

“Get off twitter, loser. Wanna make an escape? I need some Starbucks. Frappuccinooo,” Louis sing-songs.

“Mmmm, coffee run?” Liam answers casually, not looking up from his phone. Louis kicks a little harder, lets ones of his black Vans scrape along Liam’s perfectly white shoe.

“Yeah, I just need to get out of here for a bit, ya know?” It takes Liam a moment, looks like he’s weighing something in his mind. But then he finally pockets his phone, pulls his hood down, and raises a conspiratorial eyebrow. Louis takes a step backward because this looks like a man with a plan, and he wasn’t quite expecting this.

“I have a better idea.” 

Louis feels Liam gripping his elbow, and he allows himself to be dragged out a side-door and down a stairwell, mostly out of shock. But he doesn’t go quietly.

“Where are we going? What is this? I demand to know!”

“Shhhh, dumbass, you’re ruining it!” Liam pushes through a door marked ‘Emergency Exit,’ and they’re out in the back parking lot. 

“Emergency exits? A secret field-trip? What is this sense of adventure, Liam?” There’s a hint of awe in his voice, before he drops his tone and says matter-of-factly, “Everyone will think this was my idea. You know I’ll get all the blame if we get in trouble.” Liam’s hand slides all the way up Louis’ arm and shoulder to grip his neck, effectively forcing him to stop walking. An uncharacteristically wicked smile unfolds across his face. He leans in to whisper:

“Don’t tell anyone how corrupted I’ve become. It’s our secret.” 

Louis shivers despite the summer weather, Liam’s breath like a sigh in his ear, hand still hot on Louis’s neck. Louis has to jump away because, all at once, the touch is too much. He takes off running through the parking lot: feeling the cool breeze against his neck is so much easier. Liam catches up quickly and _oh, of course_ Louis thinks to himself, _I can’t outrun a goddamned athletic star_.

“Idiot!” Liam cries. “You don’t even know where we’re going!” Louis turns and shoves him in the chest, willing him to get a taste of the hot confusion coursing through his own veins. _Feel this_.

“Liam Payne!” he yells for absolutely no reason, pretty sure his brain has melted. “Hurry up and show me then!” he challenges wildly. 

Liam gets that conspiratorial gleam in his eye again. He brushes the crook of Louis’ elbow with his fingers, _follow me_ , and crosses out onto the sidewalk beyond the studio parking lot. Louis realizes he’s been holding his breath. He shakes his head, trying to snap himself out of _something_ , exhales sharply, and goes.

 

They’ve been walking down the actual street now, and they somehow haven’t been recognized yet, but there’s the possibility that this could end very badly. Paul and maybe even Simon himself will kill them for being out and vulnerable like this without telling anyone. Louis notices that Liam keeps sending him sideways glances without saying anything or touching him, and it’s becoming unbearable.

“Listen, Payne,” he says to break the silence “if you’re going to cockblock me from my frappuccino sugar rush, this had better be good.” Liam chuckles but, when he speaks, he looks hesitant.

“I just thought…you’ve seemed restless lately. More than usual, that is. And you said just now that you wanted an escape. Putting all that together, I didn’t know if you were okay, you know, about…everything?” he finishes vaguely, and Louis decides not to supply any more details because even he doesn’t know what those details might be yet.

“I’m not sure,” he answers honestly. They had reached a tacit agreement during that interview a few weeks back that something unusual was happening, but had never discussed it. They hadn’t been really alone, without fans, reporters, security guards, or the other lads around. Now they’re standing on a busy street in the middle of London, staring at each other as people crowd by, and Louis thinks maybe the anonymity of the city is a good time to talk about this. Maybe Liam knows what he’s doing, after all. 

“Things are different now. Not bad. But a little strange, you know?” He wants to reach out for Liam, but the touching thing suddenly has a strange edge to it. “Are _you_ okay about everything?” he asks. Liam shrugs.

“Well, let’s see,” Liam begins listing things off, counting them on his fingers, “I have no clue what’s going on with our band, which is our _job_ , by the way. Being a band is our job, so that might be a problem. I’ve led you out on some kind of mad escape mission, and we’re currently standing in the middle of the street, and we’re absolutely getting in so much trouble later. So, honestly, I don’t know.” Louis can’t help laughing, his smile going all crooked.

“Look, this was your idea. And, what I do I know is, I _definitely_ will not be okay if this turns out to be boring. So, let’s go.” Liam’s cheeks flush a little at this.

“Actually, we don’t need to go any further. We’re here.” 

Louis looks around. They’re standing on what looks like the most ordinary streetcorner in London. People are walking their dogs, carrying their groceries. As far as Louis can tell, there isn’t anything to be seen.

“Liam, have you actually gone mental? And this is your way of trying to tell me? Is that the problem? If so, you’re not being very subtle. This is a residential street, mate. What could we possibly be doing here?”

“Exactly, it’s residential. I’ve always liked this street, it stuck out in my mind as quite peaceful. And the idea just occurred to me, you’re so hyped up, the last thing you need is more caffeine.” Louis treats Liam to the most dramatic eyeroll possible here. “No, listen! You need to work off the energy. And this little street needs livening up.” 

“Sorry Liam, you’re not actually my dad. It’s none of your business how much caffeine I do or do not drink. More importantly, and I mean this in the most polite way possible, what in the FUCK are you on about right now?”

“What I’m on about is, let’s play some ding-dong-ditch. That’s the plan.”

Louis is speechless. 

Louis knows he looks like an idiot. 

He knows he’s absolutely gaping cartoon-style, all wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at Liam right now. But he can’t help surveying the person in front of him. Liam is just standing silently, his cheeks still flushed and his eyes half crinkled, like he’s both smiling and grimacing in case Louis turns out to be upset or disappointed. The thing is, Louis now knows that even though Liam looks completely harmless, he’s actually some kind of evil escape plan genius masquerading as a normal person.

He can’t help himself. Louis tips up on his toes and throws his arms around Liam’s neck. _The fucking best plan!_ Liam makes a little surprised hum. Louis can feel the vibration in his chest, and it sends a charge through him. He jumps and backs away just enough to see Liam’s face going even redder, wonders for a moment if he isn’t the only one heating up and losing his mind. But he doesn’t have time to dwell on it because Liam wants to cut right to the action.

“I suppose that if this plan has been approved, we should start somewhere. What do we think? The townhouse with the red door?”

“Nah, not the red door. Way too obvious, bro,” Louis marches around the corner, scanning the street, on a serious mission now. “We need to find something less noticeable, a house that’s trying to blend in with its surroundings.”

“I’m not sure that houses themselves are camouflaged, Tommo. Like, I really don’t think that’s high on the list of priorities when building a house.” Louis elbows him in the side _listen, this was your idea, take it seriously_. Liam throws his hands up in surrender and keeps walking. 

A moment later he stops, looks at Louis and nods. Louis follows his gaze across the street to a grey stone townhouse nestled in the middle of the street with what looks like a weather-battered brown door. Louis crouches behind a car, regards the house through the car window, points like he’s zeroing in on the target. He switches his gaze to Liam, who is now lining up next to him like they’re teammates. He sways his hand so that he’s pointing at Liam’s chest. 

“Perfect,” Louis says, cracking a grin.

+

Even though Liam and Louis were the only ones who had made a mad escape, Paul had sat the entire group down for a stern talking-to. Liam had never seen Paul’s face turn as red as it did while he ranted about “disturbing the peace of London” and “the dangers of situations getting out of their control.”

“It was all over twitter! Paparazzi were quite literally seconds from being there! You would have been crushed without security if we hadn’t gotten there.”

Liam doesn’t regret the unscheduled field trip, doesn’t regret how the idea struck him in a flash as Louis had stood there kicking away at him, clearly in need of something more than just coffee. He wasn’t capable of regretting anything that made Louis’ entire face brighten up the way it had once Liam’s plan registered. He couldn’t regret something that made Louis shriek with laughter, his eyes crinkling around the edges, while running away from the confused inhabitants of the grey townhouse who were trying to figure out if they really had just spotted two members of One Direction ring their bell and then attempt to hide in the shrubbery beside the property. Liam couldn’t regret running down the street after Louis, Louis turning around and grabbing his hands. He remembers how he felt electrified from the energy and the touch, like he could light up an entire London street himself. 

 

Paul leaves, closing the door behind him with a firm snap and Liam sinks back into a murky reality. He feels a knot form in his stomach as the other three boys instinctively turn to glare at Louis, like the whole situation is his fault. It’s no surprise to Liam that Zayn and Niall are sitting together on the sofa, with Louis leaning against the arm. He looks down at the two of them and Liam notices that Louis is glaring too, his eyes looking thunderous, all evidence of his earlier laughter wiped clean away. 

“So, what are we going to do, then?” he says to the room at large. No one answers. Liam knows the question was directed to Zayn and Niall, even if they don’t. Harry pipes up, his voice rasping though the silence.

“What are you on about, Lou?” he keeps his tone neutral, but Liam can see the beginnings of a worry line forming on his forehead.

“Don’t worry, Haz, I’m not referring to you. I’m talking to these lunatics.” He swats Niall’s shoulder, and he jumps at the touch. “Niall and Zayn. Zayn and Niall. You’re like the goddamned salt and pepper shakers of the group. You come as a pair now.”

“Sorry,” Zayn interjects, “but what does this have to do with anything?” Louis raises an eyebrow like he can’t believe Zayn is challenging him, but this only seems to give Zayn more confidence. “We were all herded in here and lectured because of your bullshit, and now you’re trying to call me out? And Niall? Sorry, doesn’t add up, mate.” That knot in Liam’s stomach is being pulled tighter by the second, because no one else understands Louis’ train of thought here. He takes a step forward so that he and Louis are flanking either side of the sofa. 

“Zayn,” he begins, in what he hopes is a placatory tone of voice, “it’s just that, we’ve noticed. Louis and I noticed that you and Niall are together. We don’t mind! It’s just that, you know, you could’ve told us.” Harry’s standing bolt upright, his hand over his mouth, and even Louis looks surprised at Liam’s boldness. But Zayn and Niall are both silent. Liam watches as all the color drains out of Niall’s face, which means something has gone irreversibly wrong.

“Oh my god!” Liam cries, as it clicks. “You hadn’t realized?” Zayn and Niall are absolutely gaping at him.

“Oh my fucking god!” Louis bursts out. “You’ve basically been dating and you don’t even know it?” He lets out a harsh laugh. “No bloody wonder everything’s been so confused lately.” 

“Louis,” Harry intones in almost a whisper, “be careful.” But Louis is wound up, and Harry’s warning sets him off.

“No, you know what? It’s only the five of us!” he cries, “There isn’t anyone else. If something’s happening, we need to know. Otherwise it doesn’t work. This!” he sweeps an arm around to encompass Niall, Zayn, Liam, and Harry, “This just doesn’t work!”

“You’re one to talk,” Zayn cuts in, an edge to his voice, “About basically dating your bandmate. Fucking Christ!”

“Yes, Zayn, the entire internet thinks Harry and I are dating. Thanks for clearing that one up for me.” Zayn stands up, walks over so that he’s face to face with Louis.

“You absolute idiot,” Zayn’s voice is deadly quiet. “I’m talking about Liam. I’m talking about you and Liam.”

“Excuse me?” Louis sputters.

“Liam. You’re always running to him—”

“I don’t _run_ to anyone!”

“Wow, you’re extra hilarious today, Tommo. With the bullshitting and the lack of self-awareness and everything.”

“Zayn!” Liam cuts in, but Zayn rounds on him.

“You’re just as bad! You were out with him today, what the fuck were you thinking, Liam? If both of you are gonna act like assholes, where does that leave us? The group?” Liam doesn’t know what to say. Because that was the same question Louis had posed earlier, only somehow it’s gotten turned around to refer to himself and Louis, and his brain isn’t working quickly enough to process the implications of this.

“Would it be so bad?” It takes Liam a second to register that it’s Niall speaking for the first time.

“What?” Zayn turns away from Liam to look at Niall. Niall locks eyes with Zayn for a second, takes a deep breath, and directs his question to the room at large.

“If we were together. If Zayn and I were a thing. Like Louis was suggesting.” Zayn has gone completely still, and Liam can’t see whether he’s looking at Niall or not now. 

“No!” Louis is quick respond. “It wouldn’t be bad! That isn’t what I mean at all.”

“What do you mean then?” Niall asks, the hint of a challenge in his voice.

“I mean…” Louis throws his hands up in the air, then drops them helplessly at his sides. Liam desperately wants to reach out and take them in his own, wants to rub slow circles on his palms and help coax the words out of Louis because he knows that, for whatever reason, this is the one subject that’s difficult for him to talk about. 

“I meant what I said in the beginning. I just want us all to be one-hundred percent honest with each other, and that’s it. Can we all please just do that? Here, I’ll start,” He pauses to take a deep breath, “Zayn, I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to bring up Liam and myself at all.” He sends a darting glace toward Liam, who feels something hot swoop through his chest and down to his stomach. “There isn’t anything more going on between us, at least as far as I know, anyway.” Louis tries to raise the corners of his mouth in a smile, but Liam can tell he’s too keyed-up to properly joke. Zayn just nods and collapses back down on the sofa like he’s exhausted.

“Sorry bro,” he says, running his hands over his face and through his hair, “but same goes for me. I never expected you to mention Niall and me and, if I’m honest, I don’t know what the fuck to say about it.” 

Louis gives a shrug-nod type thing, looks from Zayn to Niall, like he isn’t sure what to say in response. Zayn’s still running his hands through his hair like it’s a nervous tic, and from the way Niall appears to be inspecting his own fingernails, it doesn’t look like he has any intention of responding or confessing to anything at all. Harry steps forward and breaks the silence. 

“I don’t really have anything to confess to, but I just wanted to say that I think Zayn and Niall are cute. You’re cute, and you know it. So just, like, get your shit together, yeah?” and he smiles as though proud of himself for saying something profound. Liam kind of can’t help smiling too out of sheer affection. “Actually I do have something to confess to,” Harry continues, “Niall, I lied to you the other day, I did drink your Coke. I knew it was yours, but I took it out of the fridge anyway. I have no excuse.”

“Bastard,” Niall mutters, shaking his head. It’s a valiant effort to lighten the mood, but Zayn is still grimacing, and Louis is doing that thing again where his smile is really just rows and rows of bared teeth, like a shark. 

“As long as we’re being honest,” Liam decides to speak up, “it was me today. It was my idea to do the whole escape plan and play ding-dong-ditch. So, it’s really my fault. All of this. I’m sorry that I basically made everyone get yelled at. I quite literally dragged Louis with me. It was my idiotic plan.” 

Liam’s announcement is greeted by stunned silence. Niall is looking at him like he can’t believe something just outdid Louis’ accusation about him and Zayn, whose eyebrows are furrowed, half in confusion, half amusement. Harry breaks down first, letting out a high-pitched shriek of “Liam Payne!” and he, Niall, and Zayn start chuckling. 

But Louis isn’t laughing, and Liam realizes that he’s made a misstep, that something is askew. Harry is walking over to Liam, clapping him on the back, saying something that Liam isn’t listening to because he’s looking beyond Harry. He’s looking at Louis, who tilts his head to the side and stares back, his eyes steely and inscrutable. He’s never looked like that at Liam before, not even when they had first met and Louis had thought he was too serious, too controlling. Liam is too absorbed in pretending as though he’s listening to Harry while trying to read Louis’ expression that, before he can say anything, Louis turns and cuts a sharp line through the room as he stalks out. Liam shivers because it’s always more chilling when Louis stays silent than when he yells. 

“Well, this has been jolly great and awkward,” Harry is saying, still patting Liam on the back “but I’m headed out for about twenty rounds of shots now, don’t suppose you wanna join, Liam?” Liam lets out a hollow laugh as they move toward the door.

“Nah, don’t think so. You’ll have to drink a couple for me, Haz.”

“That definitely won’t be a problem, cheers!” He turns, pauses almost imperceptibly before saying, “Alright, Zayn. Niall,” and ducks out into the hallway. Neither of them respond, and the knots in Liam’s stomach twist again as he realizes that was the closest he’s ever heard Harry come to sounding nervous when talking to his bandmates. And, on top of everything else, Niall and Zayn are still isolated, sat at opposite ends of the sofa from one another, Niall staring determinedly at the floor and Zayn with his head in his hands.

Liam closes the door behind him without a word, afraid that even saying goodbye would disrupt whatever talking/not-talking thing is going on between them. As he turns, he sees Louis at the other end of the corridor, bag slung casually over his shoulder, sunglasses on, looking every inch the world-famous, unapproachable pop star Louis Tomlinson. 

Liam shoves his hands into his pockets and tries to forget about earlier. He tries to forget about racing down the sidewalk, ducking behind various cars, hands pressed over each other’s mouths to stifle laughter. He tries to forget about the way Louis’s eyes had opened wide at his suggestion of playing ding-dong-ditch, as though Liam had revealed a brand new and exciting world to him. And he definitely tries to forget the hug, Louis on his tip-toes, his body warm against Liam’s for the briefest of moments. He had pulled away before Liam really had a chance to process what was happening, before he could reciprocate.

Louis is now stepping onto the lift, leaving without sparing a goodbye for anyone. It would be so easy to call out after him, to stop the doors from closing, to take Louis by the hand. But Liam can’t move, struck still by the force of the realization that this is his fault. He had said something that, in some way, had crushed Louis. The doors close. It’s his fault that Louis is now this fleeting, remote idea instead of something solid sitting right next to him, touching him, resting his head on his shoulder. 

And Liam doesn’t know how to even begin to reach out for him again.

+

Louis slams his empty pint glass down on the pub table. 

“Sunglasses and advil, tonight’s gonna be mad real!” he chants, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Might wanna check those lyrics again, bro. But quality reference,” says Stan, finishing off his own glass.

“Stanley, please. I spend enough time with Liam to know my _Watch the Throne_. And don’t even get me started on Jay-Z’s solo discography. I was simply re-arranging the lyrics to fit tonight.”

“Didn’t think you were much into rap?” Stan raises an inquiring eyebrow.

“I’m not really. Just something I can’t get out of my head lately...” Louis trails off. 

Stan notices but decides not to question any further, only saying, “I think you definitely want to stick with pop music. Freestyling doesn’t sound like your forte.”

“You know me too well,” Louis replies, spinning his empty glass around on the table. “Liam and I have been working on this one song for the new album lately. We think it’s pretty good, but we wanna get Zayn in on it as well. We….” He trails off for a second time in as many minutes, looking down into his empty glass. His own reflection stares back at him, distorted, solitary. “More drinks!” he yells. Stan cocks his head, considers him for a moment. 

“Okay, but this one’s on me. No, I insist!” he waves Louis away. “Sit down and wait here.”

When Stan returns, he’s shoving a pint as well as a tall glass of water across the table to Louis.

“Water?” Louis is dumbfounded. “You seriously asked for water? I’m embarrassed to be seen with you, I’m not letting you get a round ever again.” Stan shakes his head.

“Hydration is key,” he says in a stern voice.

“Stop interfering with my plans to get absolutely shit-faced. You’re the worst friend.”

“Not trying to interfere with the shit-faced aspect of it, mate. Trying to interfere with the whole feeling-like-you-want-to-die-tomorrow-morning thing.” Louis shakes his head, knowing an entire ocean full of water won’t stop that tomorrow, or the next day, when he has to go back down to London and return to work with the group.

“Look,” Stan leans in across the table, “I know something’s up. You weren’t planning to come home this weekend at all, and then you showed up out of nowhere, demanding to get wasted at this dodgy old pub?” Louis is grimacing, so Stan holds up a hand. “You don’t have to tell me anything about it if you don’t want. Pop star with top secret business plans, I get it. I’m just trying to help with _something_ , if I can.” Stan sits back against the booth, his cheeks flushing. “End of cheesy speech interlude, now let the shit-facing continue.” 

Water is still unforgiveable, but Louis can’t help being won over just a little. He picks up his glass of water, clinks it against Stan’s full pint glass.

“You’re the best-worst friend I could want,” he says, and takes a sip of water. Stan is still eyeing him overtop his pint glass with an anxious glint. Louis makes a decision, because Stan deserves to know what’s going on, and, if he’s being honest, he does feel like venting.

“I fucked up,” he says simply. Stan chokes a little in surprise.

“I’m sure you didn’t really, mate.”

“No, I’m not exaggerating. I fucked up utterly. With everyone.” 

“Tommo, come on, they’re your bandmates and your friends. They’ll be understanding.”

“No, it’s…complicated. God, fuck, I’m being so cryptic! I don’t mean to be. It’s just that I’m confused, I guess?” Stan has set his beer down and is just staring now, concern written all over his face. Louis can’t stand it, starts babbling just to have something to say. “I’m probably okay with Harry. Harry talks to everyone, Harry’s great with everyone. I was less than great with Zayn and Niall though. Especially Zayn. And I’ve really, really messed it up with Liam. He said something, and it’s stupid of me, but. It upset me. And I just… walked away from him.”

“Liam, really? You were just talking about him though? Like, kind of a lot?” Louis gives a harsh laugh.

“Yeah, that’s the whole problem, basically. I can’t stop talking about him. But I can’t seem to talk _to_ him either.” And Louis makes a mental note to write to the Pope making the case for Stan’s canonization because he doesn’t judge. Louis is edging around something a little bit odd and unexpected here with Liam, but Stan simply nods and takes his pint in hand again.

“I’m beginning to see the urgency about your mission to get totally fucking trashed this weekend,” he says, taking a sip.

“Fucking halleluiah, finally! Let’s demolish this, yeah?”

“You know it, bro.” Stan shakes his head. “Shit, that sounded douchey. Trying to overcompensate for the fact that I’m about to give another little cheesy speech right now. Feel like I’m auditioning for _Love Actually_. Anyway, I just want to say that, if you tried telling Zayn or Niall, and especially Liam, even half of what you just said to me, that you could work everything out. You guys _will_ work everything out.” Louis rubs at his eyes.

“I really don’t know, Stan.”

“Well, you might wanna do something about your Liam problem for sure. Something real, something besides getting faded. Before you drive yourself mental.” Louis thinks he might actually claw his own eyes out at this point. 

_A Liam Problem_. 

99 Problems and Liam Payne has somehow managed become every single one of them, and when had that happened? (Well, 98 problems, spare one spot for Niall and Zayn, a joint problem.) Maybe this is what had bothering him, eating up at him. Maybe…

But he can’t even finish the thought right now, not in a pub full of people, and not with Stan, as understanding as he is, staring at him from across the table. Certainly not with a full pint glass in front of him. He picks up the glass, puts on his gameshow host voice.

“Yes, splendid. I shall take all of this under advisement, Stanley,” hopes Stan knows that he means it, but that now is not the time, “but now, let’s FUCKING GO.” And he downs his pint. 

 

There are birds. Chirping birds. Possibly in his head. Louis shifts his body and, no, it’s a birds’ nest. It’s like leaves rustling and twigs snapping inside his brain as he rolls over in bed. Something in the real world is definitely beeping though. He realizes belatedly that it must be his phone because a cell phone is a thing, right? It’s a thing that he owns and it makes noise. He reaches a hand out for his nightstand, searching blindly for a phone-shaped object. He doesn’t think he has the strength to sit up yet, but does so anyway, only to see thirty texts and two missed calls waiting for him.

“Aarrgh, fuck!” he yells to his silent bedroom, as he clutches his head and tries to un-fog his vision. But nope, it’s not a mistake, he really did miss thirty texts overnight. And in fact, it now appears to be one o’clock in the afternoon. The two missed calls are from Harry, as are most of the texts. They vary from: 

_Lou, are you awake yet?_

_Louis, call me_

_WAKEUP WAKEUP WAKEUP_

_LOUIS TOMLINSON ANSWER YOUR PHONE!!!!!!_

Louis deletes them all in one go. The mere sight of all that capslock is making his headache worse.

There’s one from Stan from about an hour ago:

_hey bro, txt me when u wake up. sunglasses & paracetamol today ? ;)_

Two from Niall:

_Tommo!! hey umm, Harry is prob gonna call u later. dont go mental..._

_Haz is worried but …… Z & i don’t rly know what to say_

Louis thinks that it doesn’t sound like he’s the one going mental, but his stomach is sinking all the same, and it’s not hangover-related.

Two texts from Zayn, eerily similar to what Niall had sent.

_Tommo hey, Harry said he’d call u. but pls don’t freak out like he did_

_Niall and me……it’s our business yeah?_

No smiley face or x. A sign of something serious.

Nothing from Liam.

 

Louis flops back onto his pillows, fairly certain that he can’t cope with any of this ever, but especially not until he’s had a proper fry-up and a few of those paracetamol. It feels like someone is actually raking leaves inside his head and there’s that damned chirping noise again. _Not birds_ , he has to tell himself, _phone_. It’s Harry calling again, naturally.

“FINALLY!” A familiar voice is shrieking in his ear. “Do you know what time it is?” Louis holds the phone away from his ear.

“Holy fucking god, Harry!” he croaks out “I haven’t even spoken to my mum yet today. What’s so bloody urgent that you left me like thirty texts?”

“Ok, it’s possible I went a bit overboard with the texting, I admit. But I talked to Niall.”

“Yeah, he texted me.”

“Okay, well, _and_ I talked to Zayn.”

“Yeah, he texted me too.” Harry pauses.

“And I talked to Liam.”

“And now you’ve completed the 1D set, congrats, you win the grand prize!”

“ _Louis_.” 

“Alright, alright,” he grumbles,” What’s the news, then?”

“The news is that Zayn and Niall aren’t speaking to each other.” He lets that sink in for a moment before emphasizing, “Niall. Not speaking to someone.”

“Shit.” Louis hopes that maybe if he sits still in his bed for the rest of time, it might eventually just swallow him whole and he wouldn’t have to deal with any of this. But Harry isn’t finished.

“And, the thing is, when I talked to Liam, he said that you weren’t speaking to him either.”

“No,” Louis groans, “it’s not that I’m not speaking to him. It’s just…”

“It’s just that you stormed off in a huff like a total twat and have been avoiding him ever since?”

“Possibly.”

“Please, Louis. Just apologize to him, and everything can go back to normal between you two.”

“I don’t know that it can, Harry. And I don’t know that Liam wants to hear anything from me right now anyway.”

“He really does though,” Harry says in a low voice, “trust me.” He pauses before assuming a more businesslike tone. “Also, I’m not having two sets of people in this dumb group not speaking to each other. I refuse to be the only one talking to everyone.” Louis lets out a barking laugh.

“You love talking and you love the attention.”

“So do you.”

“FINE, but not today. I’ll talk to him on Monday.”

“You better.” Harry resumes his quiet tone before continuing: “Talk to him because he’s your friend, Lou. Because you miss your friend.”

“Oh my christ!” Louis erupts. “This has been a completely torturesome conversation and I’m hanging up on you now. Have a terrible day, Harold, goodbye!” and he does hang up. Unfortunately for him, he’s treated immediately to a new series of texts from Harry:

 

_is torturesome a real word? must ask Zayn._

_hanging up on me?? overreaction much?_

_it’s ok. that’s how I know you miss him LOADS. :) :)_

 

Louis scowls at the screen and tosses his phone aside. It slides right off the bed and he groans at the thought of actually getting out of bed and standing upright to find it. He settles for rolling over to the very edge and reaching one arm down, blindly feeling around. Instead of his phone, he finds a pile of his trousers and his vans from last night, like someone had attempted to arrange them neatly, but then given up. Someone had also moved the bin right next to his bed in case of emergency.

Louis brings his hand up, rests it underneath his cheek, and lets his eyes close as the end of last night floods back to him. 

 

Stan had insisted on walking him home.

“Might jus lie down here, ya know,” Louis had declared as the two of them walked through the grass to his front door, “grass looks nice.” His belly was pleasantly full of beer and his head was spinning in that just right drunk buzzing way—he had stopped drinking just before tipping over the edge into drunk-sick. Still, something was gnawing around the edges of his consciousness, like he had misplaced something.

“Nooo, Tommo,” Stan had laughed, “grass is no good. Gonna have to get you to your bed, ya drunken sod.”

“Yer drunken too!” he slurred, reaching over, grabbing Stan by the chin, and pulling him in to blow a raspberry against his cheek. It was so familiar, being close to Stan like this, as familiar as the front door and the hallway they were both tripping through. But that wasn’t what he was looking for. That wasn’t the thing he had lost. Stan wasn’t…Liam. _Liam Payne. Liam Problem. Liam Pain. Hahaha, get it, p-a-i—_ He must’ve been talking out loud because suddenly Stan’s hand was over his mouth. They stumbled up the staircase like that, each trying to shush the other one so as not to disturb Louis’ sleeping family, and invariably making enough noise to wake up the whole house. Finally in his room, Louis had flung himself face-first onto his bed, while Stan moved the bin closer and pulled off Louis’ shoes.

“Take off your own trousers if you want to, I don’t love you that much.”

“Fine!” Louis huffed, standing back up, swaying a little on his feet, and shimmying out of his jeans. “But you love me a little bit.”

“A little,” Stan conceded with a gentle laugh. 

“Best-worst friend,” Louis crooned, slinging an arm around Stan’s shoulders. “You take good care of me,” he mumbled. “No one else would.”

“Oh, Lou,” Stan helped him back onto the bed, making sure he was lying on his side, “they all would,” he said. And then leaned in to whisper, “ _He_ would. If you’d let him.”

 

Louis screws up his face, summoning up all his energy to finally slide off his bed and stand up. He locates his phone, and types out two messages. He presses ‘send’ quickly before he has time to think too much and possibly delete one of them.

 _Stanley ! just woke up, holy shit !! thanks. you know what for._

_Liam, hi. I’m in Doncaster for the weekend. let’s talk Monday? would rather say some things in person. x_

+

It’s one of those hellish Mondays where Liam is reminded that the business of pop music is actually tiring fucking work. He spends the morning trying to convince the producers of the tracklisting order he and the other lads had come up with last week. He also tries to keep an eye out for everyone else. Louis spends most of the day attached to various Blackberrys and iPhones, typing out emails, taking calls, and helping to arrange the schedule for the upcoming album promo. He says hello to Liam and to the others, but, other than that, he’s like an absolute tornado of business plans, barely even sitting down, let alone stopping to chat with anyone. Liam feels overwhelmed just watching him. 

Niall also seems overwhelmed and far more subdued that normal, withdrawing to a corner to rehearse some of the new songs on his guitar. Zayn and Harry are supposed to re-record some tracks from last week, but Zayn keeps stepping out for smoke breaks, which isn’t going over particularly well. Liam notices the looks he keeps throwing to Niall’s corner of the studio on the way in and out after each cigarette, and he begins to guess at the purpose of these constant breaks.

Harry takes it upon himself to check in periodically with everyone whenever he has the chance. He ruffles Niall’s hair, then smoothes it back down, very unsubtly checking to see if Zayn is watching. When he discovers that Zayn is, in fact, not watching, Harry sneaks up on him, starts pulling and prodding at his denim jacket, trying to physically push him in Niall’s direction. Liam chuckles and thinks it’s all terribly hilarious until Harry rounds on him, clapping him on the back, nodding toward Louis, and humming “Call Me Maybe” in his ear. After that Liam doesn’t feel bad about pulling on Harry’s curls and shoving him so that he spins and stumbles into a stack of folding chairs. 

And he notices that Harry tries to chat with Louis more than once, but each time Louis drives him off with an exasperated shake of his head. Liam doesn’t find that hilarious at all, and tries not to think about what it could mean. He tries not to check his texts fifty times just to make sure he hadn’t hallucinated that message from Louis saying that he wanted to talk on Monday. Once he verifies that the text actually exists, he tries to stop panicking that it was meant for some other Liam, because how many Liams could Louis possibly know that he would need to speak with on Monday? And christ, he really needs to put his phone away already.

It’s late in the afternoon by the time Louis finally sidles up to him. Liam is so tired, he doesn’t notice at first because Louis doesn’t say anything or reach out, merely raising a questioning eyebrow. Not touching, not talking, this is new for them, and Louis isn’t giving anything away. Liam knows what he wants to do, but isn’t totally sure what the rules are for when they fight. But after all, _Louis was the one who said he wanted to talk in person_ , Liam thinks, and convinces himself that it will be okay if he does this. He takes a deep breath, curls a hand around Louis’ wrist, and once again pulls him through the hallway and out the side door. They head up several flights of stairs. Louis isn’t questioning anything this time, and Liam thinks that he doesn’t like it, that he would rather see some fight in Louis. He pushes the door open onto the building’s rooftop and hears Louis let out a laugh behind him.

“The roof this time? Payne, you’re full of surprises.”

“So are you,” he says, turning to face Louis, who winces.

“Not always good ones,” he replies darkly, and walks over to the ledge running around the periphery of the building. Liam joins him, but he isn’t sure yet where they stand with each other, doesn’t yet know how much he can touch, push, pull. So he settles for just being next to Louis, and they both peer over the edge in silence for a moment. 

In typical English summer weather, the sky is mostly overcast, but the sun is trying to peek out through a seam in the clouds. Liam loves being this close to the sky and seeing everything laid out so neatly below him. He watches the tiny people going about their afternoons, and it’s like everything makes sense from this vantage point. He hops up so he’s standing on the ledge, where he can see even better.

“Such a different point of view up here,” he says, in awe. He hears Louis’ breath catch, feels an insistent hand grabbing at his hip.

“Liam! Be careful!” He can’t help grinning a little bit because Louis of all people is admonishing him to be careful. Liam grins because he’s reminded that he isn’t the only one in the group who keeps an eye on the others. He grins because it’s nice to know that Louis is looking out for him, that Louis would want him to be careful. 

But it’s thoughts like this that make him stop and remind himself to be careful.

Louis is moving his hand from Liam’s hip to his arm, slides his hand down from the crook of Liam’s elbow to take his hand. Liam holds on and seats himself on the ledge so that his feet are dangling over. Louis gives his hand a squeeze before withdrawing, and then sits down next to him, but facing inward. A palpable silence stretches between them. Liam doesn’t really mind it because Louis had followed him up here and, most importantly, Louis had finally reached for him again.

“I’m sorry!” Louis bursts out without warning. “I’m sorry, I fucked everything up last week and I’ve really got to apologize for all of it.” Liam shakes his head, trying to keep up. It’s exactly like Louis to try and keep everything controlled and then erupt all at once. Liam traces two soothing fingers up and down Louis’ arm.

“It’s okay! Louis, you didn’t fuck anything up, no, _really_ ,” he emphasizes, because Louis looks dubious.

“I was horrible to Niall and Zayn, and then I was horrible to you, too.” Liam lets his hand fall.

“Louis, it’s alright. You weren’t horrible to me, you were obviously upset. I’m not mad at you about it, but I just didn’t know why? Because I’ve thought about it, loads of times, and I can’t figure out what was bothering you?” Louis shakes his head violently, grimacing. “Because,” Liam presses on, “I don’t want you to be upset. I don’t want to be the one making you upset. I was trying to cheer you up earlier that day, and it didn’t work, I guess. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“No, Liam!” Louis’ voice cracks. “It worked. It definitely worked. That was the whole problem? God!” he breaks off with a harsh laugh, runs a hand through his hair. “I have no idea how to explain this.”

“Please, Louis. Try to explain it to me. I can’t understand unless you do, and I want…I need to.” Louis rests his hand tentatively on top of Liam’s. Liam turns his hand over, gives him a little squeeze and looks Louis in the eye, hopes he’s getting the _use your words_ message, hopes he knows that Liam means it in the most genuine way possible.

“Well,” Louis begins in a shaky voice, “I was already confused about Zayn and Niall, and that’s kind of a separate issue, but kind of not, actually. Anyway, you knew exactly how to cheer me up that day. The ding dong ditch was fucking brilliant, I mean it.” He looks Liam in the eye, and then drops his gaze. He continues in a smaller voice: “You took me by surprise, with the sneaking off business and everything. And you said that it was our secret. That’s exactly what you said—it’s our secret—and I liked it.” Louis laughs at himself, and Liam gives his hand another squeeze. 

“I liked it, too,” he interjects. Louis looks at him again, his eyes turned a wild and blazing blue.

“But you told everyone. You told everyone what we had done. That it had been your idea, and then it wasn’t our secret anymore.” He says it as though it’s perfectly simple, and maybe it is.

“I’m so sorry, Lou. I had no idea.”

“Of course not, how could you know?” Louis frees his hand and waves it dismissively. “I was being completely mental.” Liam knows that Louis is being dismissive about himself, and he doesn’t want that to happen anymore.

“Not at all!” Liam places his hand on Louis’ thigh now, and chooses his words carefully, “I like having secrets with you, too, but I just didn’t realize how much that one meant to you?” 

“I think it was because it was like you knew exactly what to do for me. It was like you saw right through me, but in a good way, like you _knew_ me. Like you were the only one who did. And then all of a sudden we were getting shouted at, and everyone was staring at me and I couldn’t help myself, starting that whole argument shit with Niall and Zayn.”

“Ah, back to Zayn and Niall.”

“Those two lunatics!” Louis cries. “They’re obsessed with each other, but now they’re not speaking, and it’s my fault.”

“It’s their own faults,” Liam corrects, remembering his parting shot of them last week, sitting on the same sofa, but giving the impression that they were in separate worlds. 

“Harry was right,” Louis says after a moment, “they are cute together, really.”

“Yeah” Liam giggles a little, can’t help himself, “I suppose they are. But…what upsets you about them? And _don’t_ brush it off, I know something gets to you about them. _Louis_. Tell me.”

“It’s not that I think they’re secretly dating or even, like, hooking up or anything. I don’t, and I wouldn’t care if they were. It’s just, it’s obvious that they have their own secrets. It’s like they have their own language that isn’t meant for the rest of us. And that’s fine, it really is. It just…it seems like it must be a kind of love between them, don’t you think? And that isn’t something you can treat lightly, is it? They must be in a kind of love.”

“Say that again,” Liam commands. Louis shakes his head like he’s got water in his ears and needs to get it out.

“Pardon?”

“What you just said. Repeat that.”

“That Niall and Zayn have secrets or?—” Louis’ eyes are narrowed, like he’s trying to figure out Liam’s game, “that it must be a kind of love between them?” and Liam nods, so Louis says again: “They must be in a kind of love.”

“A kind of love,” Liam repeats back, turning the words over in his mouth, testing them out, seeing how they feel. He gives Louis’ thigh a squeeze because he’s certain they’re skirting around the edges of two different conversations right now, two different sets of people, two different kinds of love, and Louis’ leg jerks reflexively like he knows. 

“See,” Liam says after a moment, “you’re good at explaining things.” Louis rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush a little all the same. 

Liam is still gripping Louis’ leg. Louis rests his hand over top of Liam’s for a second before brushing his hand aside, and standing up. Liam swings his legs over the ledge, can’t help pulling his lower lip down a little looking at the empty spot next to him. Louis looks at him and gives a soft laugh.

“Don’t _pout_ , Liam,” and he gestures a hand, like he’s not going anywhere that Liam can’t follow, “Come on, it’s your turn.” Liam stands up, reaches out for Louis’ hand, doesn’t quite catch it. The sun is out in earnest now, an evening summer sun—not really warm but bright enough—and Louis is squinting expectantly up at him through his fringe.

“My turn?” says Liam dumbly.

“I’ve just spilled my guts out to you about everything, and now it’s your turn. Come on, it’s only fair. Let it allllll out, Liam.” Louis spreads his arms out wide to apparently indicate everything Liam should talk about, then drops his arms to his sides.

“Err, right,” Liam shifts his weight from foot to foot, “where to even start?”

“At the beginning of course,” Louis says with a good-natured shrug. “Unless you want to start at the end of something, but that will make everything much more confusing.” Liam knows he’s joking around but, as he looks at Louis, all he can feel is that he hopes they’re not at the end of anything just yet.

“Well. I suppose I ought to start by saying I’m sorry that I’ve been so spectacularly stupid.” Louis chuckles and Liam thinks there are worse ways to begin than making Louis laugh. “About everything,” he emphasizes, “about Niall and Zayn—I didn’t realize anything was going on until you pointed it out. But then once you did, it was so obvious, I don’t know how I missed it. I don’t know how they missed it.” 

“They’re missing _something_ right now.” Louis says it so quietly it’s almost a whisper. 

Liam nods. They’re still keeping to their own personal space, so he figures he had better keep speaking, willing his mouth to form intelligible words out of the thoughts racing through his head. He’s only half sure that he’s successful, but he plows through because this is important.

“And I’m sorry about the thing, you know, between you and I. Sharing secrets. I should have realized, I should’ve known how important it was because, the truth is, I liked it, too. Sneaking off with you was…” Liam pauses, running his hand over his jaw, trying to stop himself from saying sneaking off with Louis was like skipping through fields of gold or something equally embarrassing. He opts for changing track instead: “But then we got lectured, and everyone was accusing you. And then Zayn started in about you and me. About you running to me, and I’m so sorry!—” Liam breaks off, his voice cracking slightly, hopes Louis doesn’t notice.

“It’s okay, Liam” Louis holds up a hand. “Zayn was right, I do always seek you out.”

“No! Liam insists “It isn’t okay, because, shit! What I’m trying to tell you is that, if you didn’t do that, if you didn’t come and find me, I’d seek you out. I’d run to you, Louis.” Louis is very still for a moment as he stares up at Liam, then his eyes narrow and his mouth goes lopsided in a wicked grin as he says:

“Say that again.” Liam doesn’t hesitate.

“I’d go running to you.” 

Louis blinks, cocks his head to the side. Before Liam knows what’s happening, Louis’ got one hand on his waist, one hand gripping his neck, and then his mouth. Yes, that’s definitely Louis’s mouth and Louis’ teeth scraping across his neck. This has happened maybe a hundred times before, but something is different about it this time. Every word, every touch they exchange is charged with meaning now, and Liam can’t figure what this is, or if he’s meant to enjoy it, if he’s meant to close his eyes for a moment. Or if it’s a problem that he lets out a hiss as Louis flicks his tongue over the sensitive skin before pulling off.

“Incorrect!” Louis says simply as Liam’s eyes snap back open. And _oh, punishment. That’s what it meant_. Liam tries to laugh, but it comes out more like he’s gasping for air.

“Oh god, I should’ve known!” he cries, because it’s so infuriating and obvious and kind of perfect. “I should’ve known you’d do this. We were just _talking_ and now it’s this.”

“What?”

“You texted me saying we needed to talk, so I pushed you to talk, but you pushed me back. You insisted that I talk too, and now you’ve turned it into…it’s turned into a game! I can’t believe it.” Louis raises an eyebrow. His left hand is still gripping Liam’s hip, he digs his thumb in and says:

“I think you can.” Liam does that gasping-for-air laugh again, which, much to his alarm, is becoming a thing for him. He leans down and presses his forehead against Louis’ so that he can see his eyelashes up close, the stubble growing darker along his lip.

“Possibly. You drive me mad, you know.” Louis’ thumb digs in until Liam feels blunt fingernail, and he knows he’ll have a bruise there later. Possibly he likes that, too. “I like that you always push back. It keeps me… it keeps us grounded.” Louis lets out a real laugh at that, and the sound makes something in Liam’s chest twinge.

“I’m saving that one for a later replay. Whenever you’re cross with me I’ll just say: ‘Rooftop Replay!’ and then you’ll have to repeat how much you love it when I push you back and prevent you from falling into a black hole of seriousness.” Liam pulls away.

“Hold on just one second, that is NOT how it works! This isn’t an eternal game of Replay, you can’t _save one up_ for later.” Louis assumes a businesslike tone.

“Liam, I thought you would’ve noticed by now, I make up the rules. And I break them.” He stands on his tiptoes, lips brushing against Liam’s jawline, trying to reach his ear, “And in case you _really_ hadn’t noticed, so do you.”

“Oi, idiots!” a very loud and very familiar voice floats up from down below, and Liam and Louis snap apart to stare over the rooftop’s edge. 

“Harry?!” calls Liam “How did you know we were up here?”

“Not as dumb as I look, am I?”

“That’s debatable!” Louis yells. Harry raises his middle finger, then uses it to flip down his sunglasses, and throws his bag over his shoulder. 

“Just looking out for you two!” Harry manages to drawl, even while he’s shouting up to a rooftop. “Everyone’s leaving and they’re locking up the building. Might wanna come down soon if you don’t fancy spending the night on the roof. Or maybe you’d like that, I don’t know your lives.”

“Liam and I would fancy that very much, thank you, Harold!” Louis responds, and Liam turns away, hopes Harry can’t see from all the way down there how far his eyebrows are raised, as they’ve probably migrated off his face entirely. It’s a typical Louis thing to say, but Liam hopes he wasn’t saying it just to be typical this time. Not sure where to look, he ends up looking straight down to see Niall exiting the building.

“Nialler!” he calls, and Niall gives him and Louis a funny little salute. “So you’re all leaving now, then?”

“Yes, genius,” an irritated note creeps into Harry’s drawl. “This wasn’t some trick, you know. Only you and Louis go in for that.”

“Where’s Zayn?” asks Louis, and it’s like Niall flinches, and raises his arms in what Liam supposes is an _I don’t know_ gesture before turning and walking toward the parking lot. Harry stares after him for a second before turning back to shake his head up at Liam and Louis. 

“Left ages ago!” he calls. “Goodbye, then, have a romantic rooftop date!” and he takes off after Niall.

“Shit!” Liam exclaims, looking at Louis, “Everything’s still a mess.” But Louis has got a determined gleam in his eye. He begins backing toward the door,

“Liam,” he begins in an authoritative tone of voice, “we are leaving.”

“Yeah, we’d better—”

“We are leaving and we’re going to get drunk.”

“Yes, I—wait, WHAT?”

“We’re going to get drunk, all the better to formulate a plan to get Niall and Zayn back on speaking terms, if not back in kind of love terms.”

“We are?”

“It might be their own faults that they’re not speaking—after all, we managed to kiss and make up didn’t we?” Liam can feel a heat wave flooding over his entire face at this choice of language, “but they need a little help, and we’re a group, and that means it’s our job to help each other.”

“Okay,” Liam is trying to wrap his head around this. “Okay, yeah. Niall and Zayn need a little push, who else could they possibly have help them?” Louis’ smile reaches his eyes and the effect is more blinding than the sun.

“Well, certainly not Harry. His plan would be _rubbish_.”

“A disaster,” Liam agrees. “Everyone would probably end up in hospital. And still not speaking.” They’ve reached the door now. Louis takes the handle, but doesn’t open it. He stops for a moment as though he’s considering something, then turns back to look at Liam.

“An eternal game of replay, eh? That’s something to think about.”

+

Liam and Louis end up at the bar of a posh hotel. It’s one of those places where it seems like someone important is constantly walking into the room, and Louis loves that kind of energy, that charge in the air. He’s reveling in it. Meanwhile, Liam loves the smooth mahogany of the bar and the lighting that’s set just dim enough to make everything seem rosy and blurred at the edges, even before a few drinks.

Liam wants to be impressive and order whisky, but stumbles over the pronunciation of ‘Glenfiddich,’ and Louis gleefully yells: “Replay _with_ the wrong pronunciation!” The bartender is not amused (but doesn’t complain when they leave double the usual tip amount later).

Louis feels confident he can match Liam’s classiness with his drink order. He ends up with a dirty martini, and Liam shouts “Replay!” when he chokes on one of the stuffed olives. Louis manages to swallow the olive and pokes Liam with the toothpick. 

“Can’t replay actions,” he taunts. 

Liam raises an eyebrow, swills his whisky in his glass, and says, “We’ll see about that,” and he feels as though he’s recovered his smoothness.

Over a second round, they brainstorm ideas for Zayn and Niall.

“If we were in Harry Potter,” Liam begins, inspiration striking, “we could brew them a love potion!”

“Oh my god, Liam, that’s fucking brilliant. We could slip it in Niall’s drink and he’d finish it, no questions asked.”

“Might be a bit more difficult for Zayn,” Liam muses, “He’s pickier.”

“Lace his cigarettes with it, ya think?”

“Siiick idea. Too bad we’re not actually in Harry Potter.”

“Very rude of you to ruin this moment with your logic, Liam.”

Another round, plus snacks. Nothing is ruined. Liam can’t stop giggling, and Louis is seeing everything like a Byzantine painting, gold around the edges. A Niall and Zayn Plan is formed and they tap glasses in celebration. 

It’s actually Louis who suggests they quit while they’re ahead, and Liam agrees. It’s been an exhausting day, and they both know they have to do it all again tomorrow.

And it’s nothing. They’re walking by a coatroom, which is empty because it’s late summer. Louis’ eyes are bright, and the color is high on his cheeks, and Liam thinks that Louis looks so nice. Liam thinks Louis is so nice. And Louis should know that. So, he takes Louis by the shoulders, guides him into the alcove, then cups his jaw with one hand and kisses him.

Liam’s lips are soft but firm, and Louis has to steady himself with one hand on Liam’s hip and the other wrapped around his back. He kisses back because it’s just like a continuation of their conversation. It’s just like saying goodnight. 

Louis licks at the seam of Liam’s lips, and Liam tastes like whisky and salt: _god, you really were an idiot about insisting on that whisky you couldn’t pronounce_. Liam nips back: _you were the one who nearly choked to death on an olive_. Then he smoothes things over with the tip of his tongue: _I’m so glad we’re speaking again_. Louis tilts his head back for a better angle: _So am I_.

They break apart to breathe, resting their foreheads together and panting into the dim, empty space.

“Wanna split a taxi home?” Louis whispers.

“Sure,” Liam doesn’t fight it, doesn’t push back this time.

Because this—kissing like talking—was simple. This was nothing. But any more than this might be everything.

+

Louis is pacing in the hallway just outside the recording booth when his phone buzzes once, twice. About time, he thinks as he sees that the two messages are from Liam.

_heyyy me and Harry r lookin 4 Zaaaayn_

_got himmm! :)_

The two of them had spent a few days going over their plan before deciding they had to enlist Harry because, as Louis had said, “ya know, just in case Zayn’s extra moody without Niall. Harry can distract him with something ridiculous and, since you’re bigger than he is, you can grab him and just drag him down to the car or something, alright?” To which Liam had replied “Okay!” and flexed his arms. Louis had tried very hard to ignore this muscular display, but when ignoring didn’t work, he had tweaked Liam’s nipple. 

 

A third text pops up on screen: 

_u readyy?? :D_

_cool it, Batman, course I’m ready. I’ll be down with Niall in a sec._

“Niall Horan!” Louis calls in his gameshow host voice, breaking into a run to get to the lounge. Niall is sat in a chair, playing the same chord over and over again on his guitar like he couldn’t move past it if you asked him to. Louis stops in the doorway, out of breath, and his mind flashes back to those weeks ago when he’d walked into this very same room and seen Niall and Zayn jammed into the same chair, crowded into each other’s space, but looking so at peace about it that he had felt compelled to back out of the room, like he could rewind and delete himself from the scene.

“Tommo?” Niall’s staring at him now, his normally bright blue eyes looking fogged over with uncertainty and Louis wants to wave his hands like windshield wipers to clear it away. He jumps, does a little dance to shake himself into action and yells:

“Come along, Irish! Secret Field Trip! But leave the guitar, we haven’t got room.”

“What have ya cooked up, where are we going?” Niall’s eyes are narrowed in skepticism, but he stands up and walks over to Louis anyway because that’s just Niall, open and trusting.

“Nothing and nowhere,” Louis answers cryptically, wrapping an arm around Niall’s waist and guiding him. He shouts, “but follow me and all will be revealed!” in what he knows is his most showy, obnoxious voice, so he gives Niall a little squeeze, pulling him in closer for a moment to let him know that’s it alright.

When they get outside, Louis sees Zayn is already sitting in the front seat of his Range Rover. Harry and Liam both come running around from the passenger side, their arms thrown in the air.

“He insisted on shotgun!” Harry yells wildly.

“Oh did he?” Louis tries to sound mild, and motion with his hand for Harry to calm down.

“’s not a big deal” says Niall, sounding slightly irritated, and he opens the back door and slides in. 

“I wanted shotgun!” Harry whines.

“You do realize we’re not actually going anywhere, right?” Louis hisses. 

“Obviously!” Harry stage-whispers, “I’m trying to sell the lie though, yeah?”

“Well, we look pretty stupid right now,” Liam cuts in, “They’re sitting in the car by themselves, and in silence by the look of it.”

“Great, so it’s a disaster already!” whispers Louis. “You!” He points to Liam. “Go round to the other side and act like you’re gonna get in, but really just make sure Zayn doesn’t climb out the window or something.” Liam tries to clap Louis on the shoulder, but Louis flinches. Being near Liam, touching Liam, it’s too much like burning up now. Thankfully, Liam seems to get it. He stops himself, gives a little thumbs up, and bounds away. Relieved, Louis turns to Harry. “You, stay on this side and watch Niall, but try not to be too stupid about it.” 

Harry gives Louis the finger, but does as he’s told. He takes out his phone and acts like he’s checking it. Meanwhile, Louis slides into the driver’s seat. Zayn hands him his keys.

“Here, Liam gave these to me. Might help us get somewhere.”

“Might do,” says Louis carefully. He puts the key in the ignition, turns the air conditioning on, and locks the doors.

“Hey,” Niall pipes up. “The other two haven’t got in yet, might wanna unlock the car.”

“Actually,” Louis turns in his seat to eye Niall, and then look at Zayn, “they’re not getting in. We’re not going anywhere.” His statement is greeted by confused silence.

“As a group, we’re not going anywhere right now, but you two are gonna sit in here and hash your shit out, as long as it takes.” And now they both have plenty to say. 

“Tommo. Louis, man,” Zayn haltingly spits out his protest. He’s got one half of his face covered with his hand, but Louis can tell he’s grimacing, “we don’t need to.”

“We don’t need your help, Louis,” Niall says from the backseat in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. “It’s our business.” Louis raises his hands for them to be quiet.

“Thank you for your input but, actually, it’s everyone’s business. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re a group, it affects all of us.” Zayn is slouching down in his seat, and Louis wonders if he’ll end up crouched on the floor of the car before this is all finished. “Liam and I talked it over,” he continues, aiming for a smooth, placid tone of voice, “and then we went to Harry, who agreed with us. You have to sort this out because it’s unbearable. I mean, Niall, the fact that you’re not speaking to someone is absurd.” Niall’s cheeks turn a fire-engine red. “We don’t care what exactly you decide, that part of it is your business,” he emphasizes, “although we all decided that you’re quite cute together, and it would be a terrible waste if you threw that all away.”

“Ugh, do you ever stop talking?” Zayn interrupts.

“Only when I’m sleeping.”

“Sometimes not even then,” Niall snarks from the backseat.

“Look,” Louis can’t keep the emotion out of his voice now, “I provoked a fight with everyone last week, and it was shitty of me. I was anxious about you guys, but I was wrong. I shouldn’t have been. I shouldn’t have called either of you out. I was a twat, and I’m really sorry.” There’s a moment of silence, during which Louis is pretty sure his stomach drops out of his body.

“Nah, Louis,” Niall reaches over the seat to pat his shoulder, “you know it’s not your fault, right?”

“Like, it’s not because of you?” adds Zayn. “We stopped talking because…because of us.” 

“I know, I know. This might come as a surprise, but I wouldn’t flatter myself thinking that I’m so important that I could, like, break you up. I still thought I needed to apologize anyway.” 

“Lou,” Zayn intones so softly Louis almost doesn’t hear, and Niall gives Louis’ shoulder a gentle squeeze before dropping his hand. Louis nods, but he can’t look up, he can’t look at either of them for a moment because he seems to have something in his eye that needs to be wiped away.

“Okay!” he says, pulling it together, “Now, fix it between yourselves.” He gives each of them A Look so that they know it’s not a question. To his surprise, they both appear ready to take this a little more seriously. Zayn is even sitting all the way up in his seat now.

“Right, I’m going to get out and leave you both to it,” says Louis. “But I’m leaving the keys in the ignition so that you can have air conditioning and, I don’t know, turn on the radio if you want. Seeing as how neither of you have a license, I think we’ll all be safe doing this.”

“I understand your big plan now,” Zayn laughs. “Get us in a car where the two of us couldn’t escape, couldn’t get away from you?”

“Of course, Zayn, you know I like situations where I have all the power. Now, be good. And just in case you’re thinking of making an escape, I’ve got Harry,” he points out Niall’s side of the car, “and Liam,” he points out Zayn’s window, “on standby. Harry is very ridiculous, Liam is very strong, and I am very loud, and you wouldn’t want to mess with the three of us together.” Niall gives a snort.

“You got the ridiculous part right, mate, but I’m pretty sure it applies to all of you.” Louis just smiles back at him because _that’s more like it_. Zayn turns back to look at Niall now, too.

“Should I move to the backseat, is that what this means?” he asks. “Tommo is getting out so I should move back there? Just when I had finally called shotgun over Harry too!” Niall shrugs instead of giving an answer, but his eyes are locked with Zayn’s, and Louis knows that even if Zayn’s half-joking and complaining about this, he’ll do it. He knows that everything will be okay because Zayn will do anything when Niall’s looking at him like that, intent and focused, and with a hint of hope.

Louis shifts in his seat, makes sure he has his cell phone, and gets ready to open the door. Sure enough, Zayn is already hoisting himself up, climbing over the seat, ends up doing a half somersault into the back.

“Arrghhh!” he yells incoherently as he falls in a heap next to Niall. Louis opens the door and slides out, but he pauses for a moment to hear their exchange.

“Ya great baby, don’t worry, your hair didn’t get messed up.” Zayn manages to roll his eyes as he sits upright in the seat.

“Thanks for the concern, but it’s not that. I hit my elbow. It really hurts, dammit!”

“Let me see,” Niall commands in a gentle voice, and Zayn lifts his arm. Niall inspects his elbow for a moment, then blows lightly on it.

“Hey!” Zayn cries, then his voice turns small and bashful, “that tickles.”

“Ah, does it? Good news!” Niall grins up into Zayn’s face “I think you’re gonna survive.” Louis can’t help bursting out laughing. He claps a hand over his mouth, and slams the car door shut before Zayn and Niall can yell at him.

“Oh my god,” he cries, “they’re nauseating, I’m gonna puke, get me out of here!” Harry wrinkles his nose.

“Keep your distance from me then, mate. But job well done, getting the two of them back together.” Liam comes jogging around to the driver’s side of the car.

“We could hear everything!” he cries. “It went rather well.” He gives a little smile that makes his eyes crinkle, and Louis thinks not that smile, please.

“Er, yes,” he says, “things were a bit shaky at the beginning. I’m not sure, but I think it’s alright now.” Liam smiles more confidently and pats him on the back.

“It’s more than alright. Good plan. The person who came up with it must’ve been clever.” Louis is too busy inhaling sharply to respond, but that’s okay because Harry breaks in.

“Oi! Am I going to have to lock you two in a car as well? We’ll be running out of cars soon.” Louis turns to Harry, because it’s easy to look at him right now and tell him off.

“Will you please shut up and go back to whomever you are obsessively texting!” Harry grins wide and Cheshire cat-like, but he turns and walks behind Louis’ car, effectively leaving Liam and Louis alone.

“We really could hear everything, you know,” Liam says after a pause. “I heard you calling me ‘very strong,’” he adds, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Louis can tell what’s coming. “Don’t make me replay that, it’s an abuse of the game.”

“Yes, but you said it to them. Replay, and say it to my face.” Louis crosses his arms, defiant.

“I’m waiting.” Liam taps his foot.

“LIAM, YOU ARE VERY STRONG,” Louis bellows out. “But, you’re not quick enough!” He reaches out and twists Liam’s nipple, then he’s careening away. 

Louis runs toward the side door of the studio, wrenches it open and throws himself against the wall. He closes his eyes, telling himself that he’s breathless from running. Thinking about how strong Liam may or may not be absolutely does not conjure up memories of Liam’s ability to take him by the shoulders, push him into an empty room, and kiss him like he meant to do it all night. That’s not at all why his face feels so hot right now.

“Louis?” he jumps as his eyes fly open, and he sees Liam opening the door. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, taking in Louis’ expression.

“Scared the shit right out of me, Payne.” And Louis is relieved to see that Liam settles himself against the other side of corridor wall. It’s not wide, but the space between them is enough. 

“Er, maybe Harry had a point?” Liam starts.

“Doubtful.”

“Louis, please.” This must be serious because Liam opted not to call him Tommo.

“About what?”

“About how maybe the two of us should be locked up to work things out.”

“We already worked things out, Liam,” Louis answers, because maybe he wants to play dumb. Or maybe he wants to make Liam say it.

“The kiss though. I’m talking about the kiss, Louis.”

“Oh.” _Oh_ , because he did. He did say it.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Liam’s voice is genuine with emotion, and Louis isn’t sure he can stand this. “We can forget it if you want. It seemed like a good idea, but we were both drunk, and it was silly. We can just forget—”

“No!” Louis cuts in, because there’s no use pretending anymore. “No, we can’t forget it. We shouldn’t.” Liam raises his eyebrows, and Louis laughs harshly. “How do you do it?”

“Sorry? How do I do what?”

“You always know what I want, what I need. You know when I need to blow off steam and not talk about something. Then you know when I really _do_ need to talk about something. You even know when I need kissing.” Liam’s mouth drops open. He takes a step toward Louis.

“No, Louis, I—” he stops himself, both his movement and his speech. He gazes out the window of the door, and Louis thinks he’s gathering his thoughts. But when Liam still doesn’t finish his sentence, he realizes that’s not it, it’s that Liam’s stuck. Liam’s on pause.

“Liam?” and Liam finally looks towards him, still silent, his gaze unusually inscrutable. Louis takes a breath and says as calmly as he can:

“Replay and, this time, say what you mean.” 

“That’s not really a proper replay though, is it?”

“It’s a replay of the moment. You get to replay the entire thing.” Liam weighs this for a second, then nods. He takes a few steps back, moving his arms like he’s rewinding. Louis gives him a little encouraging smile and holds out his hand, gesturing for Liam to come forward. _I won’t bite, not this time_.

“Louis,” he begins, stepping forward again, starting to close the space between them, “the thing is, well, we established that our whole problem was that I _didn’t_ know what you needed. I didn’t realize that you needed me to keep a secret with you. I didn’t understand. I fucked it up instead.”

“What we established, Liam, is that I was being completely mental about that.”

“No, not at all.” Liam rushes forward at this, so that he’s directly in front of Louis now, crowding into his space. Liam is taller, broader, but Louis doesn’t feel intimidated, or small, or like Liam’s looming over him. Instead, he feels like they fit. It’s like they could just fit together. But Liam isn’t finished: “You weren’t being mental at all because what you actually said to me,” he continues, “is that you like when we share things between us. It’s not really the secret, is it? It’s that we shared something.”

“Liam Payne,” Louis breathes out. Liam looks at him questioningly. “You do always know. You always know me.” And Liam smiles his crinkly smile again, his brown eyes going soft like velvet. “Is that why you kissed me?” Louis asks. “Because it was another thing to share?”

“Maybe,” Liam rests his right hand on the wall next to Louis’ head, “and maybe I just wanted to kiss you. Selfishly.” Louis leans his head back against the wall, feeling almost winded by Liam’s words. 

“Selfish, hmm?” he murmurs. “Maybe you’re not the only one who can do selfish.” He reaches up and fingers the collar of Liam’s shirt, then grips it in his hand. Liam places his left hand on the other side of Louis’ head, boxing him in.

“Good. I’d really hoped not.”

And for a moment there’s nothing, nothing in the entire world, except for the sound of their breathing and the inch of space that’s left between their lips. Then there’s a clatter as the door bangs open, and it sounds like a tornado ripping through the hallway. Liam spins away and Louis falls forward away from the wall, trying not to let his heart jump out of his throat. 

It’s Harry, of course. 

Harry is leaning against the other side of the wall, doubled-over and clutching his sides. 

“They’re snogging!” he laugh-shrieks. 

“What? No, we weren’t—!” Liam stutters.

“No, no!” Harry breathes out, “Zayn! Niall!” He turns to Louis. “In your backseat. _Proper snogging_ , mate.” That snaps Louis out of his fog.

“Noooo, the plan has gone too far!” he yells, and he practically jumps out of the door in his haste to get back to his car.

He throws open the back door on the driver’s side and is treated to the sight of Niall and Zayn lying horizontal across the seat, their legs tangled together, Zayn’s arms around Niall to keep him from falling off the edge onto the floor. And Harry’s right, that’s definitely Zayn’s mouth on Niall’s mouth.

“HAVE YOU QUITE FINISHED?” Louis screeches. “Out! Out! The plan is over. Hurrah, you’ve discovered you’re in love with each other! Now kindly get the fuck out of my car!” They stop kissing long enough to laugh, and Niall buries his face in Zayn’s neck. Louis frowns.

“Excuse you two, you don’t seem to be taking this seriously,” he admonishes. “I’m the only person allowed to get off in the backseat of my car, so please go finish elsewhere.” He moves to open the driver’s door and turn off the ignition.

“Shoulda thought this plan through a little more, bro,” Niall laughs, tumbling out of the car, and Louis tries not to notice his very red mouth, his tousled hair, and rumpled t-shirt.

“Honestly,” says Zayn, following him (looking similarly disheveled) and slamming the car door shut. “We expected a little more foresight from you, Tommo.” He turns to Niall and starts smoothing out his shirt and adjusting his collar. Niall raises his eyebrows and smacks his hand away.

“Don’t bother,” he says, grabbing Zayn by the hand, dragging him away. Louis rolls his eyes as he locks his car, his plan sadly abandoned. 

“Oh hey, Tommo!” Niall calls back over his shoulder. “Talking about getting off in your car? It’s more fun with another person, yeah?” And both he and Zayn are pointing very obviously to something behind Louis. He doesn’t even need to guess and, sure enough, he turns around to see Liam standing a little bit behind him, staring at him with a mixture of embarrassment and bemusement. He gestures to his right and Louis follows his movement to see Harry crouched on the ground, hands over his face, shaking from what Louis assumes is laughter.

“Harry here has been working on suffocating from his own laughter for about five minutes straight now,” Liam informs him.

“Excellent,” says Louis. “Then we won’t have to put up with him for much longer.”

“Hey!” Harry cries, his voice cracked from all the giggling. “Oh god, I don’t even mind, this is the funniest day of all time. Niall and Zayn nearly getting each other off in your car. And the best part is, you planned it! You locked them in there yourself!” It’s a Herculean effort for Louis to resist the urge to kick Harry over so that he falls flat on his face, but he decides that watching Harry suffocate himself might be funnier. Instead, he merely shakes his head, pockets his car keys, and starts walking toward the front door of the studio.

“Hey!” Liam calls. Louis turns around, cocks his head. “Have you quite finished, eh?”

“Yeah?” he asks, because Liam is smiling at him, but Louis isn’t sure what he’s getting at.

“Hmmm, that’s a good one,” is all he says. Louis shakes his head and turns back around, not ready to fall into step with Liam just yet. He wants to make _sure_ of something first. He just needs to see. 

Niall and Zayn are stopped right by the studio front doors. Zayn has draped his arm casually around Niall’s shoulder and they appear to be having an animated discussion. 

“You seriously have a Nando’s addiction, bro,” Zayn is saying. Niall wrinkles his nose.

“Wasn’t really what I asked though. Will you come with me for dinner?”

“Yeah, alright, if you come with me to that art thing this weekend I was telling you about.” Niall holds up a cautioning finger.

“I asked you if there would be food.”

“And I said there’d probably be wine and cheese, you know, that sort of stuff.”

“Yeah but, my thing about that is, is it socially acceptable to eat all the cheese?”

“Probably not, no,” Zayn giggles. “Since when have you been worried about being socially acceptable?”

“Don’t wanna embarrass you in public, darlin’.”

“Aww!” Zayn makes obnoxious kissy faces at Niall, who shoves his face away with one hand.

“Get outta here with that!” he commands. “Unless you’re actually gonna snog me, I mean.” Zayn begins pressing kisses on the side of Niall’s face, working his way up the cheekbone, stopping suddenly to laugh. 

“Shit, you’re right,” he says. “I really can’t take you anywhere, can I?”

“It’s all good, I can think of a couple of things we can do,” Niall stage whispers and raises his eyebrows, “ya know, not in public.” Louis scrunches up his face and covers his ears in an exaggerated way as he walks by. They both casually flip him off, and he winks. He pulls the front door open, looks back for Liam and Harry. They’ve fallen behind, but he can hear snippets of their conversation. 

“I swear I can hold my breath for two minutes!” Harry insists. “Gemma timed me once!”

“No, no, no! I absolutely do not want to know what you and Gemma get up to in your downtime!” Liam shoots back. “Keep your weird family traditions to yourself.”

Louis lets the door close behind him, presses the button for the lift. He looks at the ground in an effort to hide the smile breaking out across his face. The lift arrives with a ding and Louis thinks maybe he’ll listen to some Jay-Z on his way home today because _99 Problems_ but, at the moment, he can’t think of a single one.

+

“Why can’t I do some of the writing too?” Liam whines at Louis, who is sitting at the other end of the sofa in the studio lounge, balancing a notebook in his lap. “I want to feel like I’m contributing to the process, you know?” Louis bites down on the pen he’s holding, gives an exasperated sigh.

“We’ve been over this, Liam. The best way for you to contribute to the song writing process is to absolutely never, under any circumstances, try to write or spell anything out. Because we won’t know what we’ve written.” Liam pulls his bottom lip down, and Louis nearly growls at him, “I’ve told you, don’t pout at me. Your pouting doesn’t work on me,” Louis insists, but he’s refusing to look at Liam when he says it, so Liam thinks maybe something is working. “Furthermore, in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve spent the last half hour transcribing your every thought so that we can attempt to turn it into a song at some point. I don’t know how much more you could possibly be involved.” Liam huffs, because Louis is right, and he doesn’t have a good response. He decides to go for whining again.

“You’re never this mean to Zayn when we write with him.”

“Zayn is an English genius, it wouldn’t be fair to compare the two of you.”

“Ah, so, just to clarify, then, you’re saying that I’m not a genius?” 

“What I’m saying is that _you_ ,” Louis leans over and stabs him in the chest with the pen, “haven’t changed one single tiny iota since we first met. You’re still an absurd control freak about everything.”

“Ow! Well, _you_ ,” Liam flicks him across the cheek, “are still a headstrong, stubborn brat who doesn’t understand the concept of personal space.”

“Stubborn! Me?” Louis squawks, “and don’t act like you don’t love every single one of us being all over your precious personal space!” he cries, smacking Liam over the head with the notebook. Liam knows that he really did bring this on himself, but maybe, he might admit to himself, this is exactly what he had wanted to provoke. He’s now pulling on the collar of the black jean jacket Louis is wearing ( _honestly, who wears a jacket inside during August_ ), trying to tip him off balance. Louis throws the pen and notebook on the floor, all the better to reach at Liam. So much for song writing.

Liam gets his hand inside Louis’ collar, touching his shoulder, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of his neck, and he feels Louis go tense under his touch. He tilts his head and goes completely still, staring at Liam with an appraising look. Liam gives an embarrassed little gasp, draws his hand back into his own lap. He’s noticed Louis doing this lately. He’ll stop, tilt his head to the side, and just contemplate Liam. It’s unnerving. 

And it’s been happening ever since they had almost kissed again in the hallway the other week while Zayn and Niall had been for-real kissing in Louis’ car. At least Liam had certainly been on the verge of kissing Louis, and he’s pretty sure the feeling was mutual. But Liam realizes that he might be slightly blinded on this subject, because he can’t stop thinking about kissing Louis for the first time, all stumbling and tipsy, Louis’ mouth hot against his, the taste of alcohol searing his lips, and something else, too. Something intangible, like a type of intensity. It’s enough to make Liam feel like every moment he’s ever spent not kissing Louis has been a waste. 

The thing is, Louis hasn’t been touching Liam as much since then. It’s not that they aren’t communicating. Replay is so much of a thing now that even Niall, Zayn, and Harry know about it. And song writing had been going well—until Liam had kind of purposefully derailed it. And it’s not really a problem, per se. It’s just that Louis is still looking at him. Liam can see the gears turning inside his head and, without their touching thing, Liam isn’t sure how to soothe it.

“Ah shit! Sorry, sorry! We thought this room was empty.” Both Liam and Louis nearly jump off the sofa in surprise at the sound of another voice. Liam looks over to see Zayn standing in the doorway. Niall walks up behind him, wraps an arm around Zayn’s chest.

“Awfully quiet in here,” he says, resting his chin on Zayn’s shoulder, “we assumed you two were somewhere else.”

“Yeah, but we can leave,” Zayn says quickly. “You two seem like…” He looks back and forth between Liam and Louis, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “Is everything alright?” he asks in a careful tone. 

“Of course,” Louis speaks up. “I was just trying to work on one of our songs, but Liam here insisted on being a baby. So our productivity came to an end, isn’t that right, Liam? Isn’t that exactly how it happened?” Liam glances at Louis out of the corner of his eye. He’s smiling, but his hand is balled into a fist, his knuckles white. Liam can’t help it, he touches him on the wrist—light and quick—but enough to mean _calm_. 

“Yeah, ‘fraid Tommo isn’t lying,” he says, in a long-suffering voice.

“I never do,” Louis pronounces, uncurling his hand and flexing it. Liam smiles at Zayn and Niall.

“Of course you guys can come in, I mean, this is the common room, right?” He’s trying to be easy, but he sees Zayn and Niall break apart and exchange looks, obviously having a private exchange, before acquiescing. 

“We ordered some takeaway,” says Niall, flopping down into a chair.

“Didn’t we just have lunch, like, two hours ago?” Liam asks. Niall looks stricken.

“One ham and cheese toastie hardly qualifies as proper lunch!” Liam rolls his eyes, because of course, how could he have caused such offense. “Just waiting for the food to arrive. I’m starved and bored ta death.” Zayn drapes himself over the arm of the chair, leaning on Niall’s shoulder.

“No one is surpised to hear this news, Nialler.” Niall wrinkles his nose.

“Shove off,” he replies lightly, but pulls Zayn in even as he says it.

“You’re like the cartoon version of yourself,” says Zayn, chuckling. “D’ya realize that?”

“You’re one to talk! Vas happening, I’m Zayn and I’m a miserable hermit who just wants to sleep all day.” Niall spreads out across the chair, miming falling asleep. “Boring,” he declares.

“Oi, calling me boring?” Zayn bunches Niall’s t-shirt in his hand, pulls him up with a gleam in his eye. “You were saying something very different last night. And this morning.”

“No!” Louis and Liam shout in unison.

“We swear we’re happy for you,” Liam pleads. “But please no talking about last night or any nights or mornings, it’s the rule. We agreed.” Niall and Zayn fall into each other, giggling. Niall leans into Zayn’s ear.

“They’re just jealous,” he says, so loudly that Liam doesn’t think it qualifies as a whisper at all.

“Seriously!” Louis holds up a hand “No kissing and telling. Well, not unless it’s really juicy. Then you have to call a meeting and tell us everything.”

“Oh, really?” Zayn drawls. “In that case, the same goes for you two!” And he and Niall are basically just a tangle of limbs and giggles at this point. Liam turns to Louis.

“Do you hear anything right now? Anyone laughing? Anything at all?”

“No, I don’t hear anything. There’s nothing else in this room.” Louis replies, and it’s impressive, really, because Niall is practically screeching now.

“Remember how Louis thought the two of us were being ridiculous about getting our shit together, isn’t that hysterical, Zayn?” 

“Funniest, most ironic thing that’s ever happened,” Zayn confirms. Liam doesn’t know what to do with himself now, because he’s sure that, from an objective stand point, this situation probably is amusing. But it isn’t very amusing that he doesn’t know what to do, or that he really, really doesn’t know how Louis is going to react right now. To his genuine surprise, Louis leans forward, asks:

“So, how did you do it, then?” 

Niall and Zayn gawk at him, obviously just as shocked as Liam.

“Er, do what exactly?” Zayn asks in a hesitant voice, like he’s sure he’s walking into a trap.

“Sort yourselves out,” Louis replies. “How did you do it?” He rests his chin in his hand, prepared to wait patiently for them to answer. Niall and Zayn look at each other and seem to decide that it’s okay to proceed, because Niall turns to Louis.

“The thing was,” he starts off. “Zayn had this mad idea that I didn’t really like him. He was convinced, you know, that I didn’t really fancy him. Because I’m friendly to everybody.”

“Well, it’s the truth!” Zayn attempts to defend himself.

“Niall is quite a bit more than friendly with you, mate,” Liam interjects.

“Yeah, well _now_ he is.”

“Shhh, shut up, everyone!” Louis commands. “You still haven’t answered my question. Now we know what the problem was, but how did you fix this little situation between the two of you?” Niall shrugs.

“I kissed him.”

“That’s it?” Louis seems skeptical.

“How d’ya think we ended up all tangled up on your backseat?” Zayn asks, smirking a little. Louis throws his hands in the air.

“I’m sorry I asked! It’s just… a kiss? That’s all it took?”

“It’s like this,” Niall seems thoughtful now, “I’m friends with you, Tommo, but the difference between you and Zayn is that I’ve never had the urge to really snog you. I mean, kiss you goodbye, yeah. But shove my tongue down your throat? Not so much.”

“Cheers, I feel loads better now,” says Louis dryly. Niall grins wickedly and tugs at Zayn’s collar.

“Nah, you’re fit. It’s just, I think you’re someone else’s type,” and he and Zayn collapse into giggles again. Liam thinks he can make out Zayn muttering, “so oblivious!” into Niall’s shoulder. Luckily (or maybe unluckily, Liam hasn’t decided yet), Harry picks that moment to amble in. 

“I heard a commotion,” Harry says, like this is a completely normal, non-pretentious thing to say. “Niall Horan!” he points to the Niall-Zayn heap on the chair. “I’m shocked you would be causing a racket in this manner.”

“Don’t know and don’t care what you’re accusing me of, Styles. Is our takeaway here yet?”

“Yes,” Harry looks surprised, “that’s what I came in to tell you.” Niall jumps up before Harry can get the sentence out.

“Have a sixth sense about food, ya know.” He’s already making a beeline out of the room. 

“Hey!” cries Zayn, looking scandalized at being left alone and adrift on the chair. “Ditching me?” Niall stops, turns around and holds out a hand. Zayn shakes his head. “I can’t compete, can I?”

“Well,” Niall raises his eyebrows, “you can try.” Zayn smiles his tongue-pressing-against-his teeth smile. He peels himself off the chair, meets Niall and snags a kiss. “Mmmm, decent effort”, Niall says, playing it cool, but Liam can see his cheeks pinking up. “Now let’s see what you’re up against,” and Niall pulls Zayn out of the room. Harry shakes his head.

“Sickening. Truly sickening.” He turns to Liam and Louis, shakes a finger at them ominously, “Hey, I have an issue with you two.”

“Uh oh,” Liam groans, “what have you done?”

“It’s not what I’ve done! Listen, I tried to have Paul do Replay, but it didn’t work.” Louis barks out a laugh.

“What do you mean it didn’t work?”

“Paul was trying to lift up this box because some assistant was supposed to come get it—”

“Don’t care,” Louis interrupts, “get to the point.”

“The _point_ ,” Harry huffs, “is that he looked really funny all hunched over trying to deal with this hulking box. And the assistant turned out to be a girl, and I was just trying to be clever and, okay, I wanted to embarrass him a little. So I kept telling him to do a replay of picking up the box. But he refused. He didn’t care. He just walked away! It’s a stupid game.”

“It isn’t the game’s fault that you’re rubbish at it,” Louis sniffs. 

“The game consists of saying ‘replay,’ that’s literally it. How can you be rubbish at it?” Harry cries.

“Don’t ask me or Louis, it’s clearly not a problem for us,” Liam says in a tone indicating that Harry is beyond help. “Did it occur to you to offer to help out at all during this situation?”

“Of course, I helped the girl.” 

“Obviously,” Louis rolls his eyes. 

“Anyway, the point of the game isn’t to embarrass the other person,” Liam says sagely. “You have to pick and choose your replay moment carefully.”

“That’s a load of shite,” Harry waves his hand dismissively. “I’ve seen you two make each other replay every other stupid sentence sometimes.” He stops then, narrowing his eyes at them, like something has just dawned on him. And really _uh oh_ this time Liam thinks. “Is there…is anything going on? What were you two doing before Zayn and Niall and I came in here?” Liam looks at Louis, who gives him an almost imperceptible nod because it’s more than a little fun to mess with Harry.

“Absolutely,” Louis begins.

“Nothing,” Liam ends. Harry’s eyes and mouth are just thin lines set into his face at this point.

“Yes, because that was very convincing. Anyway, I’m hungry and I’d like to get food before Niall eats it all, so this little interrogation will have to wait. You coming to the kitchen?”

“In a minute,” Liam says, in what he hopes is a definitive tone of voice so Harry will take the hint and leave already. Harry just shrugs and calls over his shoulder, “Whatever, you two are the weirdest.” Liam can see Louis exhaling at his departure, leaning back into the sofa, turning to him. 

“Has it ever occurred to you,” he asks, “that we’re in a group with the three most idiotic people on the planet?”

“I cry about it everyday, ” Liam says, in a dead-serious tone of voice, and Louis laughs.

“And that idiot who clearly doesn’t understand Replay!” he cries. “I mean, you can’t just have someone replaying an action.”

“Actually,” Liam asserts, “I would argue that you can, but that was obviously the wrong situation to try it.”

“Hmm,” Louis chews on his bottom lip, considering, “are you making up the rules?”

“Yes, I am. But it’s not just me, you had me replay that whole moment one time, remember? I even said at the time, it wasn’t a legitimate replay.”

“Yeah, but…” Louis looks away. “That worked out alright,” he says quietly. Liam has had it with Louis’ changeability. He’s had it with the looking at Liam and then not looking at Liam, with the touching and then not touching thing. Maybe Niall and Zayn can communicate with just glances, but they can’t. They need the touch.

“You know,” he explodes. “You said once that I make up the rules too, but I don’t know if you really meant it. You only want me to speak up and challenge you when you think it’s okay. Talk about control freaks! Guess what, Louis, you kissed me back. And then you said we shouldn’t forget about it. But it feels an awful lot like we have.”

“Liam—”

“No! You always say that I know you so well, but do you know me? Not everyone can play only by your rules all the time, Louis. I can’t. That’s just… that’s just selfish!” Liam freezes before he’s even finished saying the word, remembering the last time he and Louis had talked about being selfish. Louis is quiet, and Liam is terrified he’s pushed too far this time. He watches Louis out of the corner of his eye, sees him picking up an Evian bottle and taking a sip. 

“I am selfish,” Louis replies in an odd, low voice. Liam looks down at his hands, takes a breath, then looks up to meet his gaze. Louis is staring right back at him, and this time he’s sitting up straight, looking self-possessed and steady. And yes, Liam thinks, Louis definitely remembers the last time the two of them had talked about selfishness, but maybe that isn’t a bad thing.

“Alright, then,” Liam begins, thinking recklessly that, if he’s going to push too far, he might as well really go for it. “Replay, and prove it.” Louis cocks one eyebrow.

“You mean, like you want me to put your little action rule to work?”

“You’re a quick study,” Liam deadpans.

“You really are the worst one out of the whole lot of us,” Louis is shaking his head. “Talk about stubborn and headstrong! Once you get hold of an idea, you don’t waste any time, do you, Payne?”

“And you’re wasting too much time, Tomlinson! Replay, and show me.” Liam grins at his own cheesiness, because he had nearly just said _show me what you got_ , and that must mean he’s really losing it. But it’s okay, because Louis is actually grinning right back. He takes another sip of water, screws the cap back on carefully, and sets the bottle on the floor. He scoots closer to Liam so that their shoulders are touching. Each movement is excruciating in its slow deliberateness and, just when Liam thinks he might pass out from waiting, Louis finally leans in.

“So impatient,” he murmurs in Liam’s ear, so that Liam can feel his breath hot on his neck.

“Have you quite finished,” Liam’s voice is hoarse, “with your teasing?” 

“Careful what you ask for, control freak,” Louis sing-songs softly, sliding a hand up his chest and coming to rest right on his collarbone, “you might get it.” Liam wants to smack him and call him a brat again. Liam wants to demand that Louis throw himself bodily on top of him and kiss him already. But he doesn’t have time. He doesn’t have time to ask for anything before Louis is all the way in his space, blurring out of focus because he’s so close. He pauses just before pressing his lips to Liam’s and whispers, “I am selfish.” Then he seals it with a kiss. 

It’s the opposite of their first kiss this time, all slow, careful, and exploratory. Louis starts at the corner of Liam’s mouth, and works in. It’s like a question, _is this alright for you? Is this alright for us?_ He settles in the middle of Liam’s bottom lip, and Liam could scream _yes, god, it’s perfect, you idiot_. Instead he presses into Louis’ cheekbone with one hand, rakes through his hair with the other. He gives a little pull and can’t help smiling into the kiss when that elicits a moan from the back of Louis’ throat. 

They fall gradually, until Liam is lying with his head on the arm of the sofa and Louis is entirely on top of him, one hand on Liam’s chest, the other running through his hair. They kiss like that in a haze on the sofa for Liam has no idea how long. He wasn’t expecting Louis to kiss this softly, especially not since Liam had been petulant and demanding all afternoon. But this is verging on sweet, Louis’ kisses spilling into his mouth like a sugar rush. Not to say that things aren’t heated. In fact, Liam thinks (in the distant area of his brain that still remembers how to think) that this is about to become slightly embarrassing, because he’s half hard already just from snogging, and Louis has now worked one of his legs in between Liam’s. 

For his part, he wraps his arms around Louis’ back, slipping underneath his jacket. He then slides one hand down into the back pocket of his jeans, gathering Louis in that much closer, and he’s the one moaning into Louis’ mouth now because everything just feels so _good_. But before Liam has the opportunity to become genuinely flustered, everything turns very confusing for a moment instead.

“Oh my GOD,” someone is shrieking. “It’s happening! I thought something was going on, but I didn’t think… Holy shit!” And this person sounds alarmingly nearby. The flash is what snaps Liam back to reality. Reluctantly, he pulls his mouth away from Louis’ and opens his eyes to see Harry looming over top of them with his phone out.

“Did you…” it’s an effort for Liam to make his brain function again, especially when Harry doesn’t seem to be making any sense at all. “Did you just take a photo of us?” he asks, bewildered.

“The fuck is going on?” Louis is looking up at Harry now too, propping himself up with one arm on Liam’s chest. Liam uses the moment to take Louis in: his hair wild where Liam had run his hands through it, cheeks flushed, lips bright red and kissed-out. He thinks he’d like to look at this view every day.

“Don’t worry,” says Harry cheerfully, “I took some of Niall and Zayn too.”

“You’re disgusting,” Liam says, almost in awe.

“Thank you, Liam,” Harry smiles “I’m saving them all in an album titled ‘Blackmailing Purposes,’ so look out for that,” he warns, brandishing his phone at them. Liam looks from Harry to Louis.

“He can’t be serious, can he?” he asks. Louis rolls his eyes like he doesn’t have time for this.

“Get out!” he shouts, kicking a leg out toward Harry. “Get out of here before I call security and tell them a madman named Harry Styles needs to be thrown out of the building immediately!” 

“I’m deleting the photo, I’m deleting it!” Harry cries, hopping backwards to avoid Louis’ kicks. “But now you know how easily I could blackmail you.” He backs out of the room, “Like. So. Easily,” punctuating every word with a finger gun aimed at them. Liam exhales as Harry disappears from the room, but has to inhale sharply again a moment later because Harry pokes his head around the doorframe to shout at them some more.

“Also, I’m happy for you! Also, Zayn is literally feeding Niall right now, it’s both adorable and awful. Also, I’m going out to find a date because I cannot be the only one in this band not snogging someone.” Louis groans and lets his head rest on Liam’s chest.

“Will someone just kill him already, please.”

“ALSO, USE PROTECTION,” Harry calls from in the hallway, “THAT GOES FOR ALL OF YOU.” It’s followed by the distinctive sound of Niall’s laugh echoing from the kitchen. Liam feels Louis shaking with laughter, and he has to cover his own mouth with one hand to stop from gasping too loudly about the ridiculousness of the situation. 

Liam braces himself for more but it appears that, having thoroughly embarrassed everyone, Harry is now done with the interruptions. They’re alone again, and Louis doesn’t show any sign of moving. They end up staying like that for a little while, splayed out on the sofa, one of Louis’ legs dangling over the edge, Liam absentmindedly stroking Louis’ back.

“I like it,” Louis says into the silence.

“You like what?”

“When you push back. I like that you always push back.” Liam laughs.

“Oh, is that all it takes to get you to kiss me?” he jokes.

“Yes,” Louis says simply. He pauses for a moment before saying, “I’ve been thinking.”

“I’ve noticed,” Louis turns his head to look Liam in the eye, his chin digging into Liam’s chest.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Liam smiles at him, “I notice you. I notice when you have something on your mind. What’s up?” Louis pushes himself up so that he’s kneeling. Liam follows suit and sits up.

“I’ve been thinking about things that the two of us can do.” 

Liam very pointedly arches an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Not like that, you lunatic! Not, like, sex things.” Louis smacks him on the shoulder. “Although, yes, sex. I think?” He looks at Liam, the corners of his mouth turning up shyly, gauging his reaction. Liam hopes his eyes aren’t bugging out of his head too much because, honestly, he had just been teasing. But now Louis is suggesting sex as a real possibility. And Liam vividly remembers the weight of Louis’ body on top of him, one of his legs working its way in between both of Liam’s thighs.

“Yes, please!” he says, maybe a little desperately. “Possibly not here though, not anywhere near Harry’s camera,” he adds. 

“Yeah,” Louis laughs. “Definitely better to avoid anyone’s blackmail photo album.” He looks down, chuckling to himself.

“Lou?” Liam feels badly for derailing the conversation for sex purposes. He’s been derailing a lot of things this afternoon. “What were you about to say? What’s going on, really?” Louis takes a deep breath.

“It’s just that, we’ve always done things together, like, you know, when we went surfing?”

“Yeah,” Liam nods encouragingly.

“And I thought, if we’re going to be kissing and other stuff now,” and Liam notes Louis’ crooked little grin at the mention of other stuff, “we should also keep doing those activity type things, so that it isn’t weird for us. So that’s everything’s normal for us. So that it’s normal Liam and Louis.” There’s a drawn and clouded aspect to Louis’ eyes, signalling his anxiety. Liam scoots in closer, runs his thumb along Louis’ jawline.

“Is that what you’ve been nervous about this whole time? That it would be weird for us?” Louis scrunches his face up in embarrassment, looks at Liam with one eye cracked open. 

“Er, yes. Can you blame me? I was so worried about Niall and Zayn being together, and then it bled into being worried about the two of us.” Louis has both eyes open now. “Or maybe it was about us all along. I’m not sure, it’s all one tangled mess.” Liam moves his hand down Louis’ jawline to his mouth, presses two fingers lightly to his lips.

“You’ve been worrying about a lot of things lately. You don’t need to do that anymore,” Liam assures. “It won’t be weird, we won’t let it be.” He pauses to consider for a moment. “Just, it might be a different kind of Liam and Louis. A kind of Liam and Louis…” he trails off, and Louis blinks at him.

“A kind of Liam and Louis?” he questions, and another set of words hangs in the air. Liam nods, moves his hand down the side of Louis’ neck, running his fingers up and down, wanting to coax the words out. _You can say it_. “… A kind of love.”

“A kind of love,” Liam repeats it back to him immediately. Louis lifts his hand to Liam’s face, mirroring him exactly, tracking his way across his jawline, settling a finger on his lips. Louis looks him in the eye.

“Liam, can we really do this?” he asks, “Have this? All of it?”

“Yes,” Liam breathes the word quietly, but he’s never been more certain in his life. It’s as though Louis had just been waiting all along for him to say the magic word, because he nods, his eyes opening up as the anxiety melts away from his face. And that’s all Liam has wanted to see ever since he stumbled upon Louis looking confused about Niall and Zayn weeks ago, and even, Liam knows now, a long time before then.

“Good,” Louis says, dropping his hand from Liam’s face, swinging his legs over the edge of the sofa and standing up. He holds a hand out to Liam, pulling him up, “because I thought we could start by going for a bike ride.” 

+

The two of them step out into the corridor hand in hand. Harry is on his phone, but flashes a huge exaggerated smile, and gives them the thumbs up. Niall and Zayn stumble out of the kitchen area giggling about something between them, but let out a cheer when they see Louis and Liam. Louis gives Liam’s hand a squeeze before dropping it and walking over to the two of them, a stupidly big grin on his face. He wraps an arm around each of their shoulders, enveloping them both in a hug.

“Hey, Lou, hey,” Zayn intones, curling an arm around Louis’ waist.

“It’s alright, Tommo,” says Niall, leaning down to rest his head on Louis’ chest. “You talk a big game, but we know you’re just a great softie.” Louis takes a step back, but keeps his arms around on their shoulders.

“I love you both so much, don’t you dare fuck this up. Don’t ever make me lock you in my car again.” 

“I don’t know, bro,” says Niall in a teasing tone, grinning at Zayn.

“Yeah,” Zayn picks up where Niall left off, “that worked out alright for us. As we recall, you were the only one upset by that situation.”

“I take it back,” Louis pushes them away, “I hate you. You’re both horrible people.” Niall and Zayn turn, lean into each other, laughing. _Always laughing_ , Louis thinks. _And yeah, that seems about right_.

Meanwhile, Liam has wandered over to Harry, still talking on the phone, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Who ya talking to? Your hot date?” he whispers loudly enough that the person on the other end can probably hear. Harry holds the phone away from his ear.

“Yes, actually,” he hisses, “so if you could kindly fuck off!” But he kisses Liam on the cheek before returning to his conversation. Liam gives Harry’s shoulders a quick rub, idly listening to him make plans, “Yeah, that place is sick! Meet you there around 9? Perfect.” He lets his eyes wander, finds Louis already looking at him. They fall into step and walk toward the lift.

“So tell me about this bike ride, then,” Liam starts. “What do you have in mind? You wanna race?”

“It’s nice for you,” Louis says seriously, “that you think it would even be a race.”

“Come off it!” Liam laughs, then gives him a challenging nudge. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“If I’m remembering correctly, you were very nearly some kind of Olympian runner, not a biker. I could hold my own,” Louis insists.

“Maybe we shouldn’t race. Not because I would so obviously win,” and this earns Liam a sharp elbow to the side, “but because I just wanna be around you. I want to be with you.”

“Replay.”

“I want to be with you,” Liam says it carefully, wanting to get it exactly right. They’ve reached the lift now, stopping in front of it and turning to face each other.

“Replay and, this time, say it with your mouth.”

“I say everything with my mouth,” Liam giggles, hits the down button with his knuckles.

“Do you?” Louis taps a finger to his own lips, drags a little across his bottom lip because he knows Liam is staring, and Liam doesn’t think that’s fair at all. 

He reaches for Louis, hooks a hand around his waist and pulls him in. He slides his other hand beneath Louis’ chin, tilting his face up, and kisses him. This time it’s urgent, and it’s everything all at once. It’s _hello_. It’s _I want to be with you_. It’s _I need you_. It’s _you have me_.

The lift arrives: they break apart as the doors slide open. Liam turns to step in, but Louis grabs him by the shirt, pulls him back in for the quickest of kisses. _A kind of love_. Louis pulls away, his smile small and vulnerable. Liam leans down and kisses him lightly in response.

“I’ll always do that, you know,” Liam says, stepping onto the lift, and hitting the button. He slides one hand under Louis’ jacket, can feel Louis’ skin hot beneath his shirt. He spans the small of Louis’ back with one hand, trying to impart the message. The lift arrives at the entry level with a friendly _ding_. 

“I know,” Louis replies, practically gasping, Liam’s hand burning a brand into his back. The doors open, and he and Liam walk out into the lobby together. Louis traces his fingertips down Liam’s arm, can’t resist giving him a little pinch. And he really does know. He knows that what Liam is really saying is that he’ll always reciprocate, that he’ll always replay Louis’ touch.


End file.
